Senga
by Elfreida
Summary: Most people fall and receive a knock on the head. When Senga takes a tumble, she gets a knock to reality. Suddenly she's in a world she never dared dream actually existed and is faced with the enthralling prospect of joining it with thirteen dwarves, a hobbit and a wizard. Why do Gandalf and Balin seem to know who she is? Though it is Thorin who has her going truly bonkers...
1. Prologue: Life's Game

_Just so it's clear, the origin of Senga's accent is highlands Scottish._

_**Prologue**_

**Life's Game**

"Hurry up, will you?"

"You try carrying all the bleedin' chainmail! This stuff weighs a ton!"

"I told you, you didn't have to bring the real stuff, Senga! Just use a bit of knitting an' spray-paint it silver!"

"Oi! _You _said you wanted me to make you the real stuff, and you're gonna use it! 'ave you got the swords?"

"One broadsword for you, a flambard for Eric, an' my little Needle!"

"Did you really have to name it Needle?"

"You named your first sword Sting!"

Senga rolled her eyes as she hauled their packs out of the car and slammed the boot. Together they made their way across the rolling field, avoiding the bog at the bottom, and towards the large dormitory at the far end.

"This is seriously going to throw my back out." Senga grumbled as they pulled the bags up the steps and onto the porch.

"Aye, but tomorrow we'll be being variously eviscerated, incinerated, minced –"

"You forgot liquefied."

"– oh, yeah, an' liquefied, an' then you'll be right as rain!"

"You two here for the Cthulu game, then?"

"Yeah," Senga gave the bloke a raised eyebrow even as Natasha eyed him up and down. "What other game do you actively expect to be horribly killed in on a daily basis?"

"Oh, I dunno, I think I'll manage it on the D and D." He chuckled nervously.

"Well, if you want any help, we'll be here all weekend." Natasha offered, a devilish spark in her eye. The young man looked taken aback, but nonetheless pleased, nodding appreciatively until Senga cut him off.

"Yeah, an' in the meantime jog on, we've gotta check in."

Natasha shot her a glare as the young man fled inside the building.

"You know, you can be really rude sometimes!"

Senga made a movement that resembled a shrug and went back to tugging a bundle out of her bag. It was a bright purple sack with a small hole worn through near the draw-string top.

"Um, what's the point of a dry-bag if it's got a hole in it?"

"As a bag-of-holding-things!" Senga snapped sarcastically. "Anyway, you're going on about the hole: it's _your _bag."

"What?"

Natasha snatched it away and groaned loudly, the shouting match about whose fault it was lasting all the way through reception and up to their rooms. Senga slammed the door when she got there and threw the bag on her bed. _God_, why was it she insisted on going LARPing with Natasha? Her second cousin was one of the few people who really could dive her up the wall. One might have thought their shared passion for role-playing and a good laugh would've brought them together, but somehow they always clashed. It was fun when they got into the game proper, but Senga knew she wouldn't have peace until she was back with her Great Uncle.

* * *

"So, we'll camp here for the night and see what the ides of dawn hold."

"Right. What's for dinner?"

"Magically reconstituted mashed potatoes." Senga chucked Natasha the packet and went down the hill to fetch water in a pan. It had been a good day, everything considered. They'd only lost half the investigators to an acid trap and had actually managed to retrieve the book they were looking for. Natasha was being the flirt and as unhelpful as ever, but for the minute Senga could laugh with her.

At the stream, she breathed in deeply. The night was starting to settle in and the smells of the highlands drifted through the forest; fresh smells, sharp smells. They soothed her in ways she could barely hope for anywhere else. Like she was in a story; an epic of her own. Lovingly she fingered the curved short-sword hidden in her belt. Technically it was illegal to carry a real one – actually, come to think of it, it was probably illegal to _own _a realone, but she wasn't going to use it in the LARP. She just felt better with it there, that's all. Like the real arrow she had in her quiver of foam ones. It felt more reassuring than the patched up broadsword on her back, anyway, but after all it was just a game.

No harm ever _really _came from playing a game.

She opened her eyes and let loose a sigh she hadn't noticed building up. Shaking her head to rid it of the sudden irrational disappointment, she made her way back up the hill with the water.

"You took your time. Thought you must have been ambushed by the DM by now."

"No," Senga shook her head and sighed dramatically. "Much to general disappointment, I'm still alive."

She set the pan on a metal stand someone had provided over the fire (and which she suspected was originally a cake rack) before sitting leisurely against a tree.

"Don't s'pose anyone's got any wine?"

Natasha looked at Senga expectantly.

"What? I haven't got any."

"Seriously? You who got pinged at that high school for having vodka in a water bottle?"

Senga nearly fell backwards. With the speed of a striking snake, she got to her feet and glowered at her cousin, resisting with all her might the urge to throw something heavy.

"No, I don't." She snapped.

"You snuck in vodka in a water bottle?"

One of the boys in their party gave her a look which tried to hide shock and disapproval behind curiosity, but didn't quite manage it. The look made her want to spit.

"Yeah, and weed." Natasha supplied without missing a beat. The mood around the circle of firelight could've been summed up in one word: stunned.

"Cool!" Another of the boys actually looked impressed, and that just made things unimaginably worse. The boy who had spoken before cast him a look of undisguised disgust. Natasha was confused – mainly because she lived in a small town where it was strange _not _to have encountered cannabis, as also due to her inability to keep track of what came out of her mouth. It hit her a moment later as Senga stared at her, unable to keep the betrayal from her eyes. Natasha cowered slightly, even as a stream of defences burst from her, guilt washing across her face.

Unbidden, the image of the principal when he read the report her teacher came up with after the vodka incident swam before her eyes. The report that had her addiction in it, and her father.

A wave of loathing hit her like a blowtorch.

_Defensive, but guilty and…_pitying_._

It filled her up like a black tide, eating at her until the words were forced up.

"You all have a problem with that?" She challenged, voice barely above a growl. "Go fuck yourselves."

Natasha's voice followed her through the trees, but she was well gone. She walked for what must have been miles through the thick forest, losing her friend as easily as the sounds of whispering behind her. Silence crowded down, yet still she walked. She'd probably gotten herself stupidly lost, but right then she couldn't care less. All she wanted was to get away; to find some distance between her and real life.

_Fuck._

She'd thought she was past it, thought she was _separate_, but oh no! It was like a ghost that followed her around, invisible until the moment she thought she was safe.

Far away from anywhere, she stumbled upon a stream and collapsed down by it, the night air cutting through her shirt and the chainmail beneath. She looked up at the stars and tried to calculate how far the heavens had moved – what time of night it was – but it was nearly impossible with the forest canopy. The summer had been good and the leaves were broad on the birches and beeches, almost tinkling as they rustled in the breeze. It picked up her long hair as well, the dark waves curling under her chin.

_Hiding the scar._

Not that it was easy to see, but _she _knew it was there. The loathing rose again in her throat, but she couldn't tell anymore whether it was for _him_, or just for herself. For the fucked-up person she was, dragging the dirt around like war paint. With a roar that was more like a sob, she snatched a stone from the bank and threw it hard into the water. It cracked against the other stones and skittered into the darkness. Tears welled hotly in her eyes and fell before she could stop them. Slowly, she sank to the hard ground, arms wrapped around her middle. For a long time she cried: silently, _bitterly_, wishing she could stop and move on.

The trees rustled and seemed to sigh, a melancholic tune of wind and leaves. It occurred to her that she was all alone, _completely alone._ As if the rest of the world had packed up and left. It was cold under the stars, though for some reason it felt better than the thought of going back.

_What would her Great Uncle say?_

Well, that at least was an easy answer. He would tell her to stop moping and march at whatever was troubling her with the forging hammer. The corners of her mouth twitched suddenly. She shut her eyes tight and imagined she could feel the heat from the old blacksmithing forge he had in a shed at the end of his lands. When she'd asked why he still did it – why he still worked the medieval looking forge – he'd explained that there was nothing like the feeling of forging something for yourself. And then he'd proceeded to teach her.

Her eyes snapped open. She shivered in the cold, and knew it was probably time to go back.

"_Trust your feet, girl, because they will obey only your heart an' won't lead you astray. But trust your fingers most of all."_

She couldn't move. She tried to concentrate on the feeling of the hammer in her hand: the weight, the power; striking untempered metal, but got stuck on her Great Uncle's voice as they sat together in the firelight.

* * *

"_Now I know you don't believe that things can get better, but they will."_

_She was fifteen, shivering with withdrawal in a thick blanket._

"_How can you say tha'?" She whispered brokenly. The man had a long grey beard and large, scarred hands – hands she remembered from before…before…_

"_Because you are much stronger than you think. You've got spirit, the like of which I haven't seen since your mother died."_

"_Since she got married."_

_Her Great Uncle closed his eyes for a moment. Her actual grandfather had died in an accident years before, though if she screwed up her memory she fancied she could remember a pair of quite beautiful eyes, liquescent green. Or that might have been her mother, she could never be sure._

"_You've got something special in you. It's going to get better."_

"_How come you and Peg never had kids?"_

_He chuckled._

"_Ah, unlike my brother and sisters I was not set on populating the lowlands. An' Peggy never warmed to the idea." He wrapped an arm around her shoulders with a smile. "No, I was perfectly content to watch my little nieces and nephews grew up and have broods of their own."_

"_Must have been pretty disappointed with me, then." Senga felt tears sliding down her face, but her Great Uncle turned her firmly to face him._

"_Never ever." He intoned so seriously the fire seemed to dim for a moment. "Lassy, you are my kin, whatever evil you think you've done or what's been done to you."_

He was always talking like that for some reason.

"_You are of us, and always will be. Never forget it, whatever happens."_

_She could only cry more in response, burying her face in his beard._

"_In fact," he continued, a smile sparkling in his eyes. "As the eldest child an' first before your father, an' since you have no-one else closer, you might as well be mine. For the time being, at least. My heir."_

"_Great Uncle…people don't 'ave 'heirs' anymore." Senga said with the expression of explaining something world-shattering to an ignorant. The man merely laughed and shook his head._

"_Ah, Senga, you will be my heir an' to prove it, I have something for you."_

_He reached into his jacket and pulled out a small golden locket on a long golden chain. She'd never seen anything so intricately made; the etchings of flowers flowing over the surface were mesmerising and like no flowers she had ever seen. The elliptical shape was perfect to the last measurement, but she could tell just by looking at it that it had been made by hand. As she held it, she could feel a minute line running the way around, but no hinge._

"_It's…"_

"_I gave it to Peggy when we got married, but as an heirloom of our family it was always meant to go to the children. She agreed that of all my various relations, it should go to you."_

"_An heirloom?" She questioned, turning it over in surprise. "I would've thought you'd made it."_

"_Aye, I made the locket to fit around it."_

_He smiled at Senga's confusion, closing her hand over the beautiful object._

"_What you do," he whispered, so quietly Senga had to strain to hear over the crackling fire. "Is press the bottom whilst twisting the top, but only gently. When you're all alone, open it up. You'll see."_

_He said no more as he got up and left, leaving behind a truly stunned Senga._

* * *

It was the locket she clutched now. She'd done as he'd said, though it took a bit of doing. And once she had…

Senga didn't know what to think about it. She'd gotten used to it hanging over her heart in the handful of years since, but it still made her spine tingle at the thought.

_Because stones were NOT magical and DIDN'T glow._

It was only a sliver of a stone, sheered from what she could only assume was the rest of the gem. Was it diamond? It had to be diamond. But it was beautiful beyond reckoning, beyond anything as _mundane _as a diamond, and she was sure if she stood in a dark place…

* * *

"_Where did it come from, Great Uncle?"_

"_From your Great-grandmother."_

"_And where did she get it?"_

"_She was given it by a king."_

"_Oh, come on, now you're pulling my leg."_

"_No, I swear on my forge, it was a king that blessed her line with that gift."_

"'_Blessed her line'?" Senga choked on the words as she laughed uproariously._

* * *

She stood suddenly and kicked the water, sending the stones upstream with a hard splash. She knew she had to go back, but being childish felt ludicrously good. Then again, was it so childish to run away from pain? That didn't sound childish at all. Just…human.

With a groan, she rubbed at her face to get the tears off, washing away their grubby tracks with water from the stream. The water soothed her burning face, though it numbed her fingers a bit. Yes, she needed to go back.

_But why though?_

The thought came into her head with no invitation at all.

_You're in a valley, you could just go downhill and follow the stream back to the lodge. Lost is relative. Isn't adventure what you want? Why you do this?_

_Aaaand most adventures end up with me slogging it through a bog, _she answered herself in annoyance. _All that's gonna be over the next hill is more trees and a steep ridge; I can go backwards and have that._

_Then why not just see it?_

_BECAUSE I HAVE TO GO BACK!_

She felt like taking her brain to a tree and bullying it into deciding. She had already come a long way and the night was aging, but something nagged at her. She picked up the foam broadsword she'd discarded from her back and spun it in her hands, half-wishing it was real. Her mind worked hard until it finally ground out the culprit: her Great Uncle. What he'd said before she'd left with Natasha in the car.

"_Have you thought more about what you want to do? No? Well this is important: do what your heart tells you to do. Doesn't matter what anyone else says or thinks, find what your heart wants an' swing at it with all you've got."_

Her heart dragged her on, not back. For some insane reason. Was she running away? Or searching – she liked 'searching' better. For meaning?

_A meaning to her fucked-up existence? Or just the next hill?_

She couldn't explain it, but the pull onwards was like a hook in her chest, tugging incessantly at her as she stood by the stream. The air was suddenly still, but the leaves still moved; she could hear them. Rustling without wind. And the trees felt closer, as if they were listening.

_Oh, right, now I KNOW I'm going batty._

She couldn't fight it however. And what harm was the next hill?

She was moving before she realised it, holding the broadsword boldly in front of her. She would have been far better with the short-sword against her thigh, but she wasn't really thinking about that. With feet far surer than she felt, she stepped through the tinkling water and onto the opposite bank, feeling the earth's incline as she walked. She climbed, higher than she'd been expecting, until she came to the steep crest studded with slabs of dark rock. Before her was the forest, bathed silver in the harvest moon, and then the valley walls rising steeply beyond. There was a nearly sheer drop back to the forest floor on the other side of the hill, though. Difficult enough in the daylight and nothing short of impossible, not to mention stupid, in the dark. Senga sighed.

_Well, _she thought, _that's the next hill. What was I expecting exactly?_

The rocks shifted treacherously beneath her feet, but not enough to make her lose balance as she walked along the ridgeline. It _was _a beautiful view. She wouldn't have minded staying there all night but for the fact it was getting very nippy.

_Back then?_

It was then that things started to go wrong.

* * *

_**A.N: LARPing is 'Live Action Role-Playing' where you dress up and do Dungeons and Dragons (among others) with rubber swords and generally pretend as though you're really doing it (as opposed to with dice at a table). First Mary Sue I've written properly, but before you throw yourself off a cliff, I am going to TRY to make it palatable at least. I've had a decent idea, and I'll write it as best as possible so it's not crappy like a lot of 'insert brainless normal person' ones.**_

_**I've put a lot of thought into the character as well. She's young, but she's got a hefty back-story that'll get revealed as the story progresses.**_

_**Thoughts so far? (mmm, reviews, precious!)**_


	2. The Bunnies and the Broadsword

_**Chapter One**_

**The Bunnies and the Broadsword**

"_Senga…"_

It was spoken so softly, she didn't hear it at first. A frown edged onto her face and she turned to glance about without moving.

"_Senga…"_

Her blood froze. It was like tuning into the radio and suddenly realising what the song was.

"_Senga…"_

It was just floating through the trees behind. Her name. _Her name._

"_Senga…"_

_Okay, okay, don't panic. You're having a nervous breakdown, don't panic. Don't FUCKING PANIC!_

Her heart was going a mile a minute and she couldn't breathe. Suddenly there was more than one voice: a chorus chanted behind her, now in front of her. Now she _REALLY_ needed to go back.

"_Senga!"_

"Aarg!"

The strangled scream tore from her lips as the voice rose right behind her. She turned, tangling her legs to look around. The rock was moving…and then…

The world inverted as she was tipped over the ridge, flying up to meet her and then spinning in every direction. Pain assaulted her from all sides, but it was her legs that got the worst bruising. Never before in her _life _had she been so grateful for the chainmail clanking under her shirt, shielding her chest and torso from the worst of it. But she was still falling, tumbling over and over until she felt solid stone beneath her. Unable to stop, she rolled up to the edge of the slab and then plummeted off the end, falling the last six feet to slam down. With nothing to protect her head, it smashed on the hard ground and blackness invaded her brain.

* * *

_Chattering. All above her, surrounding her. Like…animals, but co-ordinated somehow._

"Ugg." She murmured. It was still dark above; she must only have been out for a few seconds. Of _all_ the –

She struggled painfully back to consciousness, annoyed beyond words at the sheer, fucking _stupidity _of the whole thing. The worst bit was, she knew about things like this; she _knew _you didn't wander off on your own if you're going to put yourself in danger. And now look. At least she hadn't broken anything when she reached to check her legs – she would have been in trouble then, real trouble. She knew she was far out of screaming distance and no-one would think to look for her for at least another few hours, if not more.

And when they did she'd hardly left a trail of bread crumbs.

Swearing violently in Klingon (there weren't any suitable English words to _truly _express herself), she managed to flip onto her stomach and push her way into a sitting position. The chattering grew louder, even exited as she did, though she still couldn't place what it was. It was close, but she didn't see the source immediately as she'd screwed her eyes shut with the effort.

Then she opened them.

"What the _fucking hell?_"

The chattering silenced and a dozen beady eyes lifted in her direction. Eyes belonging to a dozen rabbits. _A dozen rabbits. _Looking for all the world as though they were assembled as they watched her get to her feet. They didn't run, they didn't flinch, they just stared up at her as she rose, biting a moan at her throbbing head.

"What…" her mouth hung precariously, waiting for her brain to process a language which wasn't coming.

_Squeak._

Her eyes snapped to the rabbit in the centre of the gathering, raised up on its hind legs to get a better look.

"Stay back!" She screamed, words coming back with a rush of irrational panic. She brandished the broadsword – miraculously unharmed – and tried to shoo them off.

_Squeak?_

"Get the fuck back!"

She waved the foam sword around until one of the rabbits, clearly as unnerved as she was, jumped up to bite the end off. It spat the pointy bit of foam out of its mouth, and Senga was left backing away with a dumbstruck expression. The chattering started again, each rabbit seeming to turn to his neighbour and whisper something she couldn't quite hear. Suddenly her head spun to a stop and anger boiled up from her stomach.

_Going to be threatened by rabbits, am I?_

The whole situation was absurd, but she had a plan B. Always a plan B.

Chucking the now worthless fake broadsword to the ground, she yanked the curved knife from its sheath in her belt and held it strong from her hip, eyes like thunder. The effect on the rabbits was instantaneous. The whole crowd erupted with a series of terrified squeaks before trying desperately to cower under one other.

Smiling savagely, Senga advanced on them and took a moment of pride at the way they fell back in terror.

_Squeak?_

The smile faded.

_Right, _said a little voice in her head. _Let's back track a little here. Now who's threatening who?_

She stared at the cowed rabbits now shivering as one in the moonlight. At first, she'd had the uncontrollable image of a fluffy white bunny launching at her throat dancing through her head, but it retreated slowly away as she watched.

"Oh, fuck." She growled. She lowered the weapon ever so slightly and backed away. A few rabbit heads stuck up to sniff the air and then looked at her questioningly.

"Well of course I wasn't going to slaughter you! What d'you take me for? You just scared me, is all."

_I'm talking to rabbits._

"Right," she wasn't sure why she was still voicing things. "I'm going home now, I'm sorry I scared you."

_I just APOLOGISED to RABBITS!_

She turned to see if she could scramble back up the hill only to realise she was in some sort of natural cave. Where she'd fallen through, she could see in the ceiling above, but she'd need more light to climb back up.

_Oh bollocks._

"Okay, so I'm staying here for now." She muttered, panic rising a bit again as she turned back to face the rabbits. They hadn't moved.

"Okay."

_How the fuck did this happen again?_

Growling in frustration she didn't for a second bother hiding, she flopped onto the floor with her back against one wall and sheathed her short-sword. She could have sworn a collective breath had been released.

_Squeak?_

"_What?_"

She couldn't help edging away from the crowd.

"I've already said I don't mean you harm!"

_Squeak!_

"What?"

_STOP TALKING TO RABBITS!_

But the rabbit in the centre of the pack appeared to be indicating, raised up on his hind-quarters and holding a paw towards another exit. It was just enough to double over through the entrance way and she could see a patch of moonlight illuminating the far end of the earth-and-stones passageway. The climb out that way would be little more than a short scramble, though why there was quite so much moonlight in a forest she couldn't quite fathom. She hadn't seen any clearings whilst up on the ridge.

The rabbit continued to gesture, squeaking eagerly when he realised that she'd noticed the passage.

_Why are you even considering taking directions FROM A RABBIT?!_

"Fuck it, STOP DOING THAT!" She shrieked. "STOP IT! GO AWAY!"

A few of the other rabbits looked totally confused, as if she was refusing to do something obvious. The lead rabbit squeaked insistently.

"Piss off!" She retorted automatically, no longer caring that she was arguing with a rodent. "You think I'm taking orders from a _rabbit_, then I'll just tell you where to shove it! FUCK OFF!"

The rabbit gave her a look so like the ones she received from her Great Aunt during an argument, she almost huffed like a teenager before stopping just in time.

_Correction, _an annoying voice said, _arguing with a rodent and _losing.

"Oh, Fuck!" She wailed, kicking the wall and then swearing for the sake of her toe. The rabbit dropped its foreleg and simply continued to give her that look.

What she did next, she did without being able to begin to explain. Years later, she would look back and still be none the wiser as to why in the name of _fuck _and every god she could think of she did what she did.

She followed the paw.

It must have been a combination of the need for fresh air and the need to get away from the rabbits, but the scramble for daylight (or, in this case, moonlight) took seconds. The wind tugged her hair as she rolled out onto sweet-smelling grass before scrambling to her feet and looking around. The lead rabbit bounded up after her and stopped at her knees.

_Sweet Jesus, I'm short_, popped into her head before she could stop it. To be fair, the rabbit was quite big, but the daily annoyance she took at being shorter than almost anyone else was drowned by the sight that lay before her. She stumbled backwards.

_Squeak?_

"Oh…what the fuck have I been smoking?"

* * *

"Gandalf."

Balin's lilted accent rose somehow over the ruckus of the rest as they sung and crashed about doing the dishes. The wizard in the doorway turned to him with a sudden smile.

"Ah, Balin. I was hoping to get the chance talk before Thorin arrives."

He wondered over to the old dwarf who seemed to be trying to conceal his anxiety.

"She's late." He muttered distractedly. "I thought you said your friend could arrange it."

"Radagast's methods may be a little odd, but I have no doubt that he will succeed. I would trust him with my life, in fact."

"That is comforting, my friend, but she _is_ late."

There was a pause between them as more plates flew past.

"Are you going to tell them?" Gandalf asked quietly, making sure that Balin alone could hear him.

"No, I've decided not to. By the sounds of it, it'll be enough of a shock just seeing all this and I don't want them to alarm the poor girl more than she already will be." He thought to himself for a moment. "And don't want _them _to be more alarmed than they already will be. There are few among us used to having a lass around full time, least of all the young ones, and they'll be skittish enough without that information."

"Have you considered it might be _easier_ for them to accept a woman if they knew who she was?"

"I've considered it, aye. I stand by my decision."

"And Thorin?"

Balin sighed heavily.

"If I can persuade him without telling him, I will. He's got enough on his mind without this, but I will of course tell him in due time. And Dwalin knows. Though," he passed a hand over his eyes. "I don't think he believes it. Either way, he'll stay quiet as long as I will."

It was Gandalf's turn to sigh. Ori gave the pair a strange look, but the wizard simply gave him a disarming smile and he scuttled away.

"Very well," he said with a puff on his pipe. "I will respect your judgement in this matter, though it is not the…easiest road you have set. Still, we have yet to see her."

"If she arrives at all."

"My dear Balin –"

There was a loud thump on the window. Outside it, a rabbit sniffed at the pane.

"Ah! What did I tell you?"

The dwarves, now finished with the dishes, looked non-plussed as he approached the window and, to Bilbo Baggins' horror, let the rabbit inside.

"No! Gandalf, _this _is where I draw the line! No pets! No – not birds, not cats and _certainly _not –"

"Oh do calm yourself, Bilbo, he won't be staying long."

The rabbit hopped onto the grey-clad elbow and began chatting animatedly, scurrying over Gandalf's shoulders to his other elbow and indicating the front door.

"Good gracious!" The wizard muttered, seemingly oblivious to the very confused group of dwarves following him.

"And you lead her here?"

The rabbit squeaked in excited assent.

"Then…forgive me for asking, but…" the wizard raised his eyebrows at the creature, who suddenly seemed to realise he was on his own. He gave a squeak of what can only be described as exasperation before leaping from Gandalf towards the door. Balin was abruptly by his side.

"Gandalf –"

He looked uncertain. But any question he might have had about the whereabouts of their anticipated visitor was cut short by the sound of a crash and two unmistakable yelps of pain from outside. The rabbit, having been previously been bounding towards the door, was suddenly on Gandalf's shoulder, trying to hide in his robes. All the company now looking thoroughly apprehensive, the wizard marched to the door and flung it quickly open.

On the path were two people, the marks of being knocked to the ground clear in both as they struggled to raise themselves back up. This was interrupted as the pair caught sight of each other and froze, dumbstruck at what had just happened.

And so it was Thorin Oakenshield first laid eyes on Senga, unable to move a muscle.

* * *

"Oh dear god…" she breathed. Even in the late night, she couldn't fail to notice the softly sloping hills under their blanket of down, dotted under the moon with their rainbow of little round doors. A few windows still shone with flickering, yellow light, though most were dark now that the night was getting on.

_Hobbiton._

She couldn't help looking sharply down at the rabbit snuffling the grass by her feet.

_It's…Hobbiton._

She'd fallen down a hill in central Scotland, and ended up in _Hobbiton. _It was worse than wondering through a wardrobe and ending up in a forest with a _FUCKING LAMPPOST IN IT! _

"Okay..." she breathed distractedly, swaying on the spot. "Okay..."

She fixed the rabbit with a laser stare.

"We'll do this in order, shall we? First off: _FUCK!_"

She screamed the word as loudly as her lungs would allow, not caring for the moment who heard.

"Sorry," she relented slightly as the rabbit cowered again. "Had to get that off my chest. Right, secondly: _we're in Hobbiton._"

She felt it needed to be said out loud so that the rabbit could grasp the gravity of her predicament.

"_Hobbiton._"

The rabbit just looked confused.

"_A made up place!_" Senga hissed impatiently. "_A made up place from a book! WHICH ISN'T REAL!" _Her throat felt instantly full of sandpaper as she bellowed at the still bewildered animal. "So," she continued with the illusion of calming down. "By definition, I am not really here. Which leave two options."

The rabbit sniffed expectantly.

"Either I've cracked my skull worse than an egg, or some bastard's spiked my tea."

She ran a hand over her face and tried to think straight. By the time she'd finished rubbing her eyes, she half hoped the pastoral scene before her had disappeared, but she _never _had luck that good.

_Squeak?_

"Oh, what the _fuck?_" she wailed, despairing as the very-real-feeling wind whipped her hair up off her shoulders and trailed it behind her.

"_Oh god…_"

_Squeak?_

"Well _you're _the one who brought me here, _big ears_, any bright ideas?"

_Squeak!_

Without warning, he raised his nose, sniffed, and bounded away across the field. Filled with sudden panic, Senga yelped in horror and tore away after him.

"Bastard!" She screamed, working her short legs as hard as they would go to try and catch up, but the wry creature didn't so much as slow down on its way through the fence. Senga ran at it at full pelt and jumped it, scrambling like a lunatic to follow the rabbit up the next hill. She could just see the white of his tail bobbing in the distance as they rounded a corner, finally on a paved path going up. Her anger flared hot, and it spurred her on.

_Who the FUCK did that FUCKING rabbit think it was?!_

She was nearly flying the pace she was going, and somewhere in the back of her head a warning flashed.

She was more or less running blindly through the dark and it would end _badly._

She told the warning to shove it.

The rabbit was still up ahead, movements almost excessively obvious. This infuriated her more as she noticed he still hadn't bothered to slow down. Then, suddenly, he vanished round a bend. Frustration in part replaced by a new panic, she hared round the corner, turning this way and that to try to catch a glimpse of the white bob-tail, but it was nowhere to be seen. Still at full pace, she failed to see in time the person walking in the opposite direction, himself miles away as he stared absently over the hills.

They collided, a yelp of abject shock tearing from both of them as they were knocked backwards to the stone path.

For the second time in ten minutes, she was infinitely grateful for the chainmail, and not just for her back. She was almost certain she'd bruised her chest running into whomever it was, and she was no wilting mayflower. She groaned as light spilled suddenly onto the scene with the creak of a door. _Effing rabbits. _The whole situation was utterly ridiculous, and now she'd been forcibly stopped she felt like she'd had _more _than enough of it.

_This was insane. Really, actually, insane. _She'd finally done it and gone round the twist. _Well, bully for whoever had pulled that off, really._

With another groan, she tried hard to sit up, though apparently having fallen down twice now, her limbs were getting sketchy at taking orders. Her legs protested painfully and her arms ached. She knew she'd be black and blue by the time she got back, but belligerence won over as she forced herself up. Propped on her elbows, she looked about.

And met a pair of great, storm-grey eyes, gleaming out of the darkness.

She stared. She couldn't help but stare. Her own widened as the eyes bored into hers, bewildered but as unable to look away as she was. Dead silence hung around them; a moment when time really did seem to stop and _he _– for it was a man; a man with a face like none she'd ever seen – _he _just gaped at her. The shock on his face would have been almost comical were it not for the eyes that seemed to look through her and into her with an intensity she was totally unfamiliar with.

"Are you alright, lass?"

Her head whipped round to a very old and very short man with a waist-length white beard staring at her with some concern. An entire party of men was stood behind him, all short…except for one at the front of the group who towered over the rest in long grey robes. A moment past as her eyes slid back to the man she'd crashed into, still staring at her as if he was trying to turn her to dust.

"Lass?"

"Fuckin' hey, watch where you're going!"

_Mental note: never talk while the brain's on auto-pilot._

The man looked dumbstruck, mouth hanging open as Senga forced her body into getting to its feet.

"Like running into bloody brick wall. And I _don't _mean that as a compliment."

"Well, perhaps it was not _me _that ought to have been looking where they were going!" He said heatedly, quickly following suite and looking affronted.

"Oi! I'm not having the best day here, and I wasn't the one staring off into space!"

"No, you were simply barrelling down a path in the middle of the night without looking." He brushed himself off with more than a morsel of contempt.

"I was following a rabbit!"

Senga trembled with fury, even as she recognised the lunacy in her own words.

"And that justifies the abandonment of all common sense, does it?"

"Well, after shouting at a whole group of them, I thought dispensing with the rest of sense wouldn't hurt!" She growled sarcastically. The man looked half annoyed, half as if she had just sprouted another head, but the person in the grey robes looked scandalised.

"And why on earth were you shouting at them?"

"BECAUSE THEY WERE TELLING ME WHAT TO DO!"

Senga felt _so_ wound up. If someone had so much as poked her, she felt like her head would have exploded. The men at the door cast her looks of alarm. Well…most of them. Her head turned as the unmistakable sound of a snort escaped the two young men on the robed man's left. Each was holding a straight face, but barely and both dissolved into laughter as she looked.

"Oh…"

A small smile crept onto her face as she realised what she'd just sounded like. She raised a hand to pitch the bridge of her nose and let out a small chuckle.

"Like I said," she muttered, still breathing hard. "I'm _not_ having the best day."

The young men doubled over with mirth and the robed man gave her a wry smile.

"Perhaps it would be better to know when to pick your battles." The white-bearded man offered, the corners of his mouth twitching.

"Oh 'ey," Senga pulled the hand away from her face to stare at the company of men, and then at the house, and then at the wizard (for who else could it possibly be?) and finally at the Hobbit, who among all the men still looked completely lost.

"_God_," she breathed. If this was a hallucination, it was doing a fucking good job with the detail.

"Look," Gandalf gave her a sympathetic smile and held out his hand. "Why don't you come inside, and we can all have a pot of tea."

Senga stared. A part of her – no, that was a lie. Not a part. _Most _of her wanted nothing more to accept the offer and fall into the dream as if tomorrow would never come, but she knew it would just make things more painful when she woke up. With a sad smile, she raised her eyes and shook her head.

"I'm afraid I've had enough madness for one day." She turned, feeling drained, and made to walk back down the hill.

"Where are you going?" The deep voice of the man she'd knocked into followed accusingly down the lane.

"Home?" She turned back with an 'where-the-fuck-else' expression. This didn't seem to impress him and she could almost see him bristle in the darkness.

"And I don't suppose you're going to apologise before you go?"

Senga wheeled around, annoyance springing up like spitting coals.

"You're right!" She called back, voice prickling. "I'm so _very _sorry for running into you!"

His face contorted as he caught the double meaning, but she had already turned on her heel and was marching back down the path. The buzzing of frantic whispers floated down to her, but before she could brush them off, Gandalf's voice cut clear through the night.

"Wait! Senga!"

Silence.

For a moment, she shut her eyes tightly, letting it all wash over her. Then she turned slowly round. The wizard was watching her, haloed in the light from Bag End's lamps. With determined, even steps, she walked back up the path and stood face to face with Gandalf – who, obligingly, bent down.

"This world doesn't exist. It's just something from a story – and if that bunny trying to hide in your beard so much as _tries _to squeak, I swear to god I'll tie its ears in a knot!" The rabbit quivered, making Gandalf's hair tremble. The wizard sighed, giving Senga a withering look in reprimand, but didn't interrupt.

"Anyway, given that…I'm just going to ask. How do you know my name?"

"You were recommended." Gandalf's mouth twitched in a mischievous smile. Senga gaped.

"By who?"

"By someone who clearly has a much better idea of what you are capable of than you do." The wizard straightened suddenly and Senga remembered uncomfortably that he was at least a foot and a half taller than her. "Now perhaps if you would care to calm yourself for long enough, you may find we have the answers you seek. Failing that…I believe I have a proposition for you."

Senga gave him a look of deepest suspicion as he steered her into the light of the hall and waved the still glowering man in after her. Assembled in Bilbo Baggins' foyer, each looking as surprised and amazed as the next, the men gave all the impression of resisting the urge to crowd round, their looks burning holes in her shirt. _Again with the chainmail…_

Gandalf put a hand round her shoulders.

"Everyone, I wish to introduce you Senga, daughter of Adila."

"This…is who you have chosen?" The storm-grey eyes looked her up and down with disbelief.

Senga twisted quickly to face the wizard.

"Chosen?" She repeated, no less disbelievingly.

"Ah, well," Gandalf looked uncomfortable for a moment. "As I said, you were recommended, and very highly at that." He added brightly. Again, Senga had only one question on her mind.

"By who?" She asked insistently.

"Ah, by an…acquaintance of mine," the white-bearded man said quickly. "He sent me a letter."

"...and I arranged to bring you here."

Senga stared between the pair of them, now smiling warmly at her.

"So you sent the rabbits?"

"Oh, no that was Radagast, a friend of mine whose help I enlisted."

She shook her head, unable to wrap it round the concept of _Radagast the Brown _magicing her to Middle Earth because someone had sent the old man _a letter_. Sensing her distress, Gandalf, tightened the arm on her shoulder and pulled her round to face him, expression quietly imploring.

"All I ask is that you hear us out." He said gently, looking deep into her eyes, though in a quite different way to how the man outside had done before. There was a collective intake of breath as the men looked on, anxiously awaiting her reply. It was hard to tell between those who were anxious of her staying and those who didn't want her to leave. She caught the eyes of the dark-haired youth and his fair-haired companion, eagerly anticipating an answer, but nearly cowed at the glare sent her way by the bald man standing at the back. The white-bearded man gave him a shove when he noticed and said something in an angry mutter.

Silence pressed in. With breathing in it. After a moment of just staring, she bullied her brain into thinking and tried to work rationally through the decision.

_A large group of short men, Gandalf, and Bilbo Baggins want me to have tea with them and listen to what they have to say. Riiiiight…_

Then it was as if something slotted into place with a thunk.

"_Find what your heart wants, an' swing at it with all you've got."_

Eyes like gleaming amber sprang into her mind's eye; kind and caring, pushing her into the world with a knife and a hammer in her hands.

_Screw rational._

"Okay, I'll listen."

A cheer rose from several people, and she couldn't help but notice the relief on the white-bearded one's face. But before she had time to ponder it, she was faced abruptly with the young men.

"Kili –"

"– and Fili –"

"– at your service!"

The man named Kili took her hand as they both bowed low and planted a gentle kiss on her knuckles. So taken aback was she, she didn't notice the shocked anger directed at them from the man she'd knocked into. Fortunately, neither did they as they both wrapped an arm around her shoulders and shepherded her into the dining room, chatting avidly away. The fair haired Fili gestured broadly as he told of the battles they'd fought against various monsters, whilst Kili seemed to be trying desperately to impress her with chivalry.

_Haven't they even seen a girl before? _She wondered as Kili bowed her to a seat, but at the mischievous glint in his eye she couldn't help grinning back.

"You two brothers, then?" She asked, a wry smile in place as they took their places either side of her.

"'Course!" They answered in unison.

"Um," _god_, but before it went any further she _had _to ask. "Dwarves?" She inquired tentatively. The whole table looked surprised.

"What else would we be?" Fili asked with a small laugh. Senga laughed with relief and shook her head.

"I dunno, but I thought I'd make sure."

"Don't they have dwarves where you come from?"

The question came from the one in the strange hat half-way down the table.

"No," Senga shook her head, secretly relieved that it wasn't only the young brothers that deigned to talk to her. "Least ways, not like you lot."

She said it with a bigger grin than she'd worn in a very long while, and earned a lip-twitch from the grey-haired dwarf brewing the tea.

"Oh, I thought _you_ were a dwarf!" The fresh-faced lad sitting next to the one with a huge, dark-red beard looked innocently taken aback. Every dwarf looked at him in disbelief and Sanga was torn between being insulted and being sympathetic for the way he tried to sink into his chair.

"Um, Ori," Kili gestured vigorously at his chin.

"No beard." Growled the bald dwarf sat next to the one with the white hair. Ori looked like he wanted to sink through the floor as a number of the dwarves snickered at him.

"No, I'm not a dwarf!" Senga exclaimed exasperatedly, causing the brothers, the one in the hat and a couple of others to laugh. "Shame as it is."

"Oh, no, no," Kili shook his head adamantly. "You're definitely prettier without the beard." He grinned and Senga was again completely disarmed by the cheeky bastard.

_Right, _she thought as she observed the smug expression slink onto his face. _Time to play dirty._

"You think I couldn't pull off a beard?" She asked, folding her arms across her chest as though he'd challenged her. Kili's mouth opened and closed like a fish while Fili snorted. Eventually the blond patted her arm and said, most courteously, "I've no doubt you'd still look pretty with a beard."

Senga snorted with laughter while Kili shot his brother the dirtiest look she'd ever seen being given anyone. Even the more sober dwarves with disapproval rampant were laughing now. The dwarf in the strange hat tipped his pipe with a smile and she could've sworn the white-bearded dwarf gave her a wink. Everyone else, however, was too ensorcelled by the battle of the brothers behind her, the objective of which, she concluded, was trying to knock the other out of his chair. She had to duck as a swing came her way from Fili's side, though she only got a brief "sorry!" before they resumed.

"Would you care for some tea?" the dwarf with the finely braided grey hair gave her such a sweet look of pity, she had to resist grinning.

"Please!" She managed through trying not to giggle, and eventually failed as Kili was finally toppled. He got up looking sheepish and sat down in quiet disgrace as his brother smiled smugly.

"Now," Fili gave her a gentleman's smile as she took her cup. "Where were we?"

She had to lean back as Kili lunged across her, almost upsetting the tea.

"Oi! Oi! Mind this or I'll pour it over you!"

"And waste Mr Dori's excellent tea?" Kili exclaimed, appearing scandalised.

"If I'm driven to it!"

That put the two in their place, and they sat still in their seats.

"Aye, never underestimate the tenacity of a woman, lads." The white-bearded dwarf smirked at Senga, who had the sudden disconcerting feeling she'd seen him somewhere before. Brushing it off, she realised the bald dwarf was the only one not smiling. He met her eyes with such a fierce dislike it was almost accusation.

"I wonder where Thorin and Gandalf have got to." He said suddenly, breaking their stare with something like disgust.

"Thorin wanted to discuss something with him." The dwarf spoke with the dark-red hair. Suddenly the room was sombre, and every face turned to Senga.

"Well, don't look at me, I barely know what's going on as it is!" Senga sat back, frustration gathering again. "I got ambushed by rabbits, remember, I didn't exactly get asked: 'oh, do you fancy sitting in on a meeting of thirteen dwarves?'"

They all looked surprised, Kili giving her a suddenly searching look. Not quite the intense one of the dwarf who was currently absent, she noticed, but not entirely unlike it either. For the umpteenth time in as many minutes, she cursed the fact that, despite knowing _The Lord of the Rings _backwards, she had never gotten around to reading _The Hobbit. _It was like a window in her childhood she'd managed to spectacularly miss. Still, at least she didn't have the temptation to interfere if this really was like stepping into a book.

_So you're _believing_ in all of this now, are you?_

Kili must have seen something of the fear that rose when she thought along those lines, because he put a hand on her shoulder, though he was no less confused than before. Any questions were silenced, however, by the banging open of the door. With Gandalf entered the thirteenth and final dwarf, himself looking rather haggard.

"Well, now that that's settled."

The dwarf gave Gandalf a scornful look, but didn't comment.

"I don't suppose you've all introduced yourselves to our newest addition?" The blank looks around the table put flight to Gandalf's hopeful expression. Replacing it was a slightly grumpy exasperation.

"Well then, Senga, allow me to introduce Oin, Gloin, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Balin, Dwalin," He paused for a moment, having pointed out each of the dwarves in turn. "Fili and Kili you've already met." He said with a smile at the boys. "And then there's Dori, Ori, Nori –" the group at the table's end, sat together, all smiled at her. "– and here, the leader of the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield."

Thorin stared at her from the head of the table, the fresh mark of anger in his slightly flushed face. However, his expression was carefully schooled when he looked at her, conveying a blank disinterest. The effect was worse than Dwalin's suspicion. Kili's hand was gone in a blink and, suddenly, she was quite alone.

_What was it that made them alike?_ Fili, too, though at first glance not quite so obviously. Thorin…wasn't their father, she was fairly certain of that. There just wasn't _enough _there. So…uncle, perhaps? Thinking about Tolkien's books, she wouldn't have been surprised to find that all of them were related in some way – the three brothers, the nephews, Oin, Gloin, Balin and Dwalin who _had_ to be first cousins judging by the way they acted around each other.

She sighed as quietly as she could.

She _did _have a family like that, but she'd never gotten really close to them. She'd been estranged and distant for so long that four years wasn't enough to break into the hive again. She was still inevitably alone.

"Can I…can I get you something to eat?" Bilbo said suddenly. Thorin turned, frowning.

"If there's, err, anything left." He took a dubious look behind him and Senga could just see the remains of a ravaged larder. "Oh, and for you as well, of course!" He added quickly to her.

At his words, her stomach suddenly remembered it hadn't actually been fed before running and tumbling across worlds. She was starving.

"Um, thank you!" She said, eyebrows raised in surprise. "That would be most kind."

"Very well." Thorin nodded courteously after a moment, seeming to curb his simmering mood.

Bilbo busied himself in the pantry, muttering venomously about its dilapidation, and Senga felt herself relax a bit at the thought of food. Gandalf turned a smile her way and she raised her eyes to his gentle gaze.

Suddenly pain lanced across her brow. She winced, bringing her fingers up to pinch the bridge of her nose.

"Are you quite alright?" Gandalf asked with concern

"Headache." She muttered, avoiding Thorin's questioning look.

"And what's brought that on?"

Senga stared flatly at the wizard. _Honestly, WHO asks that question?_

"Hangover, lass?" Asked Gloin from across the table.

"No, it's not a hangover." Senga retorted in annoyance. "It's just a normal, everyday _headache_."

As Bilbo walked in with two bowls of soup, she realised she might have said the last bit a _little _too quickly. Like hell she was admitting she'd been crying, though. Gandalf frowned, looking at her intently for a moment and making her feel as though he could see right through her. Fili was trying to catch her eye and Kili was staring curiously at her face. She ignored both of them.

"I'm fine." She said, forcing her voice to calm.

"Are you sure?" Kili asked as she received the soup and set it in front of her. "Your eyes are a bit red –"

"Kili, I WILL stab you with the spoon!" She brandished it menacingly.

"Fine, fine!" He threw up his hands in defeat, clearly torn between her glare and her choice of weapon.

"If you're quite finished threatening my nephew, perhaps we could get back to the matter at hand?"

Senga had a retort on the tip of her tongue, but stopped it at Thorin's cold look. She felt almost naked the way he seemed to be sizing her up. She frowned. What business was it of his to know her so intimately? Anger flared in her gut, and she knew it showed by the way his eyebrows rose.

Glaring, she leant back in her chair, folded her arms and jutted out her chin. Thorin looked as if he'd just been proved right, smug contempt written past the emotional mask she could see plain as day, yet he also seemed to be staring her down. _Waiting _for her to break the silence.

Adopting an expression as disinterested as his was, she cocked an eyebrow.

"Go on." She said softly. "I came here to listen to what you have to say, so," she put her elbows back on the table, never once breaking eye contact. "Start saying."

Thorin glared at her. She smirked, eyes equally razor-sharp.

"What of the meeting in Ered Luin?" Balin cut abruptly across their staring match. Thorin's eyes snapped to him, shutting her out with an obvious effort. They proceeded to discuss the politics of their people, not even Fili and Kili interrupting as all the dwarves listened intently. Forgetting her for a moment, Thorin himself looked suddenly weary as he told of someone called 'Dain' not wanting to be part of their quest.

"You're going on a quest?"

Thorin raised his eyebrows. Bilbo tried to look more curious than nervous as he stood fidgiting behind the dwarf. Rather than answer, Gandalf turned to fish something out of his pocket and brought it into the candlelight. Senga stared at him in question as he smoothed out an old, weathered map on the table. Aware that Thorin was watching her every move, she touched the tips of her fingers tentatively to the parchment, drawing it closer. Central to the map, which was unlike any she'd encountered before, was a single, solitary peak, topped with the image of a scarlet dragon.

"The…Lonely Mountain." Bilbo read haltingly.

Senga traced the mountain slowly with her finger.

"Erebor…"

* * *

_**A.N: I had SO much fun writing the first bit of this. I just got inspired by Sylvester McCoy and his Rhosgobel Rabbits! Oh, but i digress: the title is a parody of 'The Beast and the Broadsword' (and album by Jethro Tull). Also, if anyone's wondering, Senga is a real, proper Scottish name, though I'm not exactly**__** sure **__**how widely it's used. It's origin is either the Gaelic word meaning 'slender', or just Agnes spelt backwards depending on what research you believe.**_

_**My preciousses, my...(cough cough)...Right, um, review?**_


	3. Don't Fear the Reaper

_Bloody hell, I didn't expect so many people to go for this so quickly, but there we are. Thank you to everyone whose reviewed and favorited and followed, you're all brilliant! So...allons-y!_

_**Chapter Two**_

**Don't Fear the Reaper**

"You know of Erebor?"

"Just 'cos I don't know the specifics of you lot doesn't mean I haven't heard of the Lonely Mountain." Senga raised her eyebrows as she studied the map. "Smaug and the halls full of gold…"

She wondered if it was wise to mention she knew because of Bilbo's references to it in the _Fellowship of the Ring_. Or that she knew their future at all, distant as it was. When was _The Hobbit _set? Fifty…no, sixty years before. Seventy-seven if you included the seventeen years Gandalf was absent from the shire following Bilbo's hundred-and-eleventh birthday party.

"Aye, the treasure of Erebor had no compare." Balin said solemnly. Senga nodded, absently trying to read the dwarvish runes on the side. While she could decipher the lettering, she knew only snippets of the actual language.

She glanced up as Gloin and Oin started talking about prophecy and signs; of ravens and the promise of Smaug's downfall. Bilbo looked absolutely terrified at the idea of the dragon. Senga wondered why he was there – and, by the looks of it, so did he. Suddenly, Ori stood up and, to the whole table, he proclaimed his fearless and unwavering desire to do nothing more than slay the dragon single-handedly by ramming a sword up its backside. She tried hard to suppress a snort as Dori pulled him back down, raising a hand to her temple.

"Ori, the expression 'more balls than brains' leaps to mind." She muttered, raising an eyebrow as the brothers turned to her in surprise.

"She's right," their looks snapped to Balin. "The task would be difficult enough with an army behind us, but we number just thirteen. And not thirteen of the best," he glanced at Ori before giving Thorin a pointed look. "Nor brightest."

"Plus the fact, if there's anything I know about dragons it's that you can't just _walk _up to one an' whack it on the head!" Senga exclaimed exasperatedly. "That's suicide, even for a _grand _army."

"You're forgetting: we're _dwarves!_" Fili insisted adamantly, unperturbed. "Fighters! All of us!"

"And," Kili tugged her arm. "We have a wizard remember!"

"Yeah, but unless he's got a slay-dragon spell hidden up his sleeve, you've still got problems!" Senga pointed out wearily.

"Of course Gandalf can slay dragons!" Kili said it as though it was obvious. "I'll bet he's slayed hundreds of dragons in his time!"

"Well…" Gandalf shifted uncomfortably. Kili's face dropped.

"Look," said Senga quickly. "I'm no' saying it's impossible –"

"Well how many then?" Everyone looked to Dori. "How many dragons have you killed?"

Senga slumped over the table and banged her head on it with a groan. Gandalf said nothing at all. Suddenly the whole table erupted with shouting and everyone stood up. Senga groaned again and clutched her head as it throbbed. It seemed every dwarf was trying to voice his opinion at once, Gandalf's voice just recognisable trying to calm them down – and Dwalin's trying to shut them up. As she raised her head, she noticed Thorin still sitting, watching the scene with distaste. Fury seemed to be building in him, but for once it was not directed at her. Their eyes met briefly. In a flash, he was on his feet, shaking with anger, his voice booming through the dining room.

For a moment, Senga was mesmerised by the passion he displayed as he spoke of the riches of Erebor and of claiming what was rightfully theirs. He seemed to inspire every dwarf there; the sort of inspiration that drives men to deeds of greatness and valour, far beyond what they thought possible. To her surprise, she felt something warm and unfamiliar stirring in her own heart.

_Tugging._

"You forget the front gate is sealed." Said Balin wearily, sobering them as they sat down. "There's no way into the mountain."

"That, my dear Balin, is not entirely true."

Senga's eyes slid to the object that appeared in Gandalf's hand. It was a key of wrought iron, jagged and old-looking. She looked at Thorin. The dwarf's expression was the most unguarded she'd seen it yet as he took the thing he appeared to regard as precious beyond its worth. Gandalf smiled softly and began to explain about a secret door, hidden on the mountainside, and of his plan to use it, despite not being able to read its location clearly on the map. As Senga listened, the presence of the Hobbit hovering in the doorway became slowly clearer. Until Ori broke the mood by stating the obvious.

Senga felt pity for the poor hobbit as his role became apparent and he proceeded to vehemently deny any ability whatsoever. She looked across to Balin, who sighed, clearly sharing her sentiments. Bilbo was no burglar – leastways, _this _Bilbo was no burglar, the future notwithstanding. Gandalf, however, was having none of it. When the dwarves lost faith, he stood in fury, the air seeming to crackle and Senga was reminded of the way a storm plunges a room into darkness and then rages just out of sight. She stared, wide eyed until the darkness retreated. Every one of the dwarves looked shocked, and even Thorin looked taken aback.

"Fuckin' hey!"

They all looked at her. Gandalf paused for a brief second to roll his eyes, though she was sure the corners of his mouth twitched. He finished his speech by assuring them that Mister Baggins had more to offer than any of them guessed.

"Including himself." He added quietly. Thorin still looked unconvinced.

"You asked me to find you the fourteenth and fifteenth members of this company, and I have chosen."

"Hang on," Senga frowned, looking quickly between them. "Fourteenth _and _fifteenth?"

Thorin cast a dry look at Gandalf before turning back to her with raised eyebrows.

"You've gotta be joking." She said simply, shaking her head.

"I told you I had a proposal for you." The wizard smiled mischievously, but Senga didn't buy it.

"You want me to come with you?" She asked in disbelief. "Why?"

"Because you have some skill, or so I'm told. Along with other qualities that fit you well for this quest."

"What on earth would you need me for?" Senga leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. "You've got a thief, an' a wizard, an' no shortage of warriors who've got more cause to go than me. That's on top of the fact that, an' I'll make this clear now," she looked round the table. "I'm still not convinced _any _of this isn't just a bloody hallucination."

Gandalf frowned. Then after a moment, he leaned forward, face hard.

"If you yet believe this is a dream, then _why_ are you still here?"

The dwarves were silent. Senga paused, meeting his eyes apprehensively. Then she shrugged

"It's a good dream."

She tried to find a more logical reason in her head, but none came. Bofur and one or two others grinned.

"Then, purely for the theoretical purposes of the dream," started Gandalf calmly. "What are your thoughts?"

"You didn't answer my question."

The wizard sighed heavily, but it was Balin who answered.

"I said before, it will be a hard task, lass, and the more of us the better. You have a strong spirit. Simply put, we need all the help we can get."

A murmur went round in agreement. Fili and Kili smiled at her and Ori looked hopeful. Still Thorin looked dubious, but Balin seemed to be silently begging him, eyes beseeching. Gandalf leaned forward to the dwarf, a wry smile and raised eyebrows underlining the point he voiced.

"You must trust us on this, Thorin Oakenshield."

Thorin seemed genuinely surprised. At last, he straightened up.

"Fine. _If _you agree…" he regarded Senga. "Then I'll be willing to take you along with us."

A cheer went up, and Fili and Kili clapped her on the back until their uncle started glaring at them.

"Right, Balin give them the contracts." Oin gestured sharply with his ear trumpet. The old dwarf produced two neatly folded wads of parchment.

"Just the basic out-of-pocket expenses," he explained personably, handing her one before making his way over to Bilbo. "Time required, remuneration, funeral arrangements…"

"'Funeral arrangements?'" Bilbo repeated in alarm. Senga raised her eyebrows, but took her own packet without comment, thumbing through the gathered pages. The dwarves watched both of them; Dwalin looking resigned, Bifur, Gloin and Oin looking as if curious as to how far the pair would last, and the rest were smiling, Fili and Kili grinning from ear to ear. She could hear Bilbo muttering out loud as he paced up and down the hall, poring over the document. She couldn't blame him, though. One glance at her own revealed the whole thing as a law student's nightmare. Flicking through, she came to a paragraph that caught her eye.

"The present company will not be liable for injuries inflicted by or sustained as a consequence thereof…including, but not limited to," she examined the list. "Lacerations, evisceration, incineration, vivisection, paralysis and…variation therein…" she raised her eyebrows. "Well this certainly sounds like my last Cthulu agreement."

"_Incineration?_" Bilbo repeated, face drained of colour.

"Oh, aye, he'll melt the flesh of your bones in the blink of an eye." Bofur gave him a jovial smile. Bilbo mouthed wordlessly and started breathing hard. He looked as if he was about to vomit.

"Um…"

"Are you quite alright Bilbo?"

"Yes, I…I feel bit faint. Err…"

"Just think furnace with wings!"

Senga shot Bofur an incredulous look as Bilbo continued to look paler, hyperventilating as he tried to compose himself.

"Oh, come on, it's no' that bad!" Senga called across the room. "I mean, not compared to being eaten alive, anyway!"

Senga thought it was a perfectly sensible thing to say, but Bilbo just stared at her, horrified as he tried to stay standing. For a few seconds everyone stared, Gandalf watching closely. Then he appeared to straighten up, uttered "No", and fell to the floor in a dead faint.

"Better than being eaten alive?" Fili repeated. Senga groaned.

* * *

"Lassie?"

Senga turned. They were still congregated in the dining room whilst Gandalf and Bombur took Bilbo to the sitting room. Through the door, she could see Balin gesturing for her to join him in the hall. She raised an eyebrow, but followed out of the room, first making sure that Fili and Kili were too occupied with the ale to follow behind. The white hair made the old dwarf look a bit like Father Christmas – though she couldn't imagine the Jolly Fat Man having scars like Balin's. He sat down on a bench, looking expectant.

"I suppose you have questions."

"A couple of thousand, but I'll narrow the list to the more pertinent ones."

"Aye," Balin agreed reasonably. "So…what do you want to know?"

Senga took a deep breath.

"Who sent you the letter?"

Balin sighed.

"Please," she said softly. "I want to know."

The old dwarf seemed to consider deeply what he was going to say, frowning at the floor before turning his eyes back to her.

"Your Great Uncle, though I won't say now how why I know him. Not yet."

"Why not?"

"Now is not the time."

"That's no answer!" Her voice rose, unbidden, and frustration burned in her face. Balin gave her a look as she turned to pace the hall; one that he might have given a child refusing to apologise for something. She stopped at the bend in the walls, seeing out of the corner of her eye the rest of the company in the dining room. Her frustration flared as she _wished _she'd thought to close the door – they were being too quiet for dwarves, particularly _these _dwarves. None of them were looking in her direction, but she _knew _they were listening.

_Oh, sod them._

"It's the only one I can give, for now." Balin said firmly. "Though, truth be told, I've never met him in person."

"You'd trust someone you've never met?"

Balin gave her a flat look, speaking volumes while saying nothing. Senga glared.

And then realised she was bristling in the middle of someone else's home and half shouting at someone who'd shown her nothing but kindness. She'd folded her arms too; the classic defensive pose. She immediately felt ashamed – which, inevitably, brought on more annoyance. But, she still needed answers.

Swallowing hard, she walked back down the hall to where Balin sat and sank onto the bench next to him.

"Good," he said brightly. "At least you've got _some _diplomacy." Senga scoffed.

"_Diplomacy_," she chuckled. "Oh, I've never been good at politics. Tell the truth too often."

Balin smiled, clapping her gently on the knee.

"I'm sorry I can't give you more of an answer, lass, but," he sighed. "That's just the way it is." He gave her a calculating look. "So, anything else?"

"Well…" Senga tried to sift through her thoughts. "Alright, here's one: if you know my Great Uncle you'll know I come from another world entirely –" Balin hesitated, but then nodded and indicated to continue. "– _soooo_, just assuming for the moment this world _is_ real, how is it I know about it from someone writing it down in storybooks?"

"Oh, lassie, that's a question for the wizards, not me." Balin shook his head with a chuckle. "Gandalf tried to explain, but I couldn't make head nor tail. You'd have to ask him."

"Okay…" Senga said slowly. Her brain was coming up with conclusions like sprouting flowers, the result of her latent exposure to science fiction, but she bit them down knowing Balin would likely not have a clue what she was going on about. As the silence stretched, Balin reached and grasped her hand.

"You haven't decided yet, have you?"

"Decided what?"

"Whether to go." Balin confirmed quietly. Senga looked at him.

"I…I don't know." Senga shook her head. "You and Gandalf seem to think I'm quite capable of going…An', yes, I've done a little bit and I know how to handle myself with a sword – an' a bow, an' even a battle axe if I have to, but I've never done it for real! An'…" she trailed off.

Balin faced her straight on, grasping her shoulder.

"Your Great Uncle said you're good. That he trained you. He said you took to the hammer like you'd been doing it all your life, an' that, though inexperienced, you've certainly got a lot of potential. And," he fixed her gaze with complete seriousness. "That you're far stronger than you look."

Senga's brain ground to a halt. Balin's eyes understood the full meaning of his own words, but she couldn't go further past that thought. She looked at him, face betraying nothing, and then she spoke in a voice quieter than a mouse.

"What did he say about me?"

"Not much." Balin said gravely. "Enough, though." He added quietly after a moment.

Senga's feet suddenly supported her and her arms wrapped around her middle, both taking her to the dark window. Her face felt like stone, but she refused to think at all. The image of the night across the hills was soothing in its own way.

"He said you'd always been looking for something," said Balin carefully. "And that you deserved the chance to try and find it."

"An' what about them?" she asked after a moment.

"He indicated that whatever decision you make will have his support regarding what we are setting out to do."

Senga felt her shoulders relax a bit. Even though she knew in her heart that the only man she'd ever looked up to would be behind her, hearing it out loud from Balin was a comfort in a strange universe. She turned round.

"I don't know." She went back to sit by him, frowning slightly. "I need some time to think."

"Aye lass," Balin nodded gently. "Take all the time you need."

"Can I ask you a personal question?"

Balin raised his eyebrows curiously, and nodded.

"Now I know about the dwarves' legendary love for gold, but this isn't a children's story. Why are you doing this?"

A deep sadness came into Balin's eyes as she asked, and she thought she saw regret in the old dwarf's face. Again, the unexpected sense of recognition blundered into her brain, and she had to bite her tongue to stop herself asking Balin. For a long time he stayed silent, before a creak on the floor behind her made her turn.

"Excuse us."

Thorin's deep voice was commanding in the gathering gloom. She wanted to retort; to tell him to fuck off, but the sadness in Balin's face for once made her silent. And he hadn't been overtly rude, just…

"Go on, lassie." Balin said softly, gently squeezing her shoulder before releasing her. With a nod, she obeyed, strolling past Thorin who looked at her with something like confusion. She didn't blame him that time. She was confused enough herself. She past the sounds of Bilbo being revived in the sitting room and found the rest in the kitchen. Kili grinned at her, but it faded as he caught sight of her face.

"What's wrong, lass?" Bofur gave her a look of concern as she found a chair near the stove. "You left your contract on the table in there."

"You're coming with us, aren't you?" Fili looked as anxious as Kili.

"I haven't decided yet, have I!"

Senga rubbed a hand over her face. The headache, while not that bad, wasn't going away in a hurry. And she was _tired_. In all the excitement, she hadn't realised how truly tired she really was.

"But…" Ori looked so much like a puppy in the half-darkness.

"Worried about your neck, lass?" Dwalin asked sneeringly. Senga's head shot up.

"No," she looked at him as if he was mad. "I'm no' afraid of dying, surprising as it sounds."

She hadn't meant to boast, so she'd said it in a tone of matter-of-fact, like she was describing her opinion on chocolate. The effect on the company was immediate.

"What," Gloin said disbelievingly. "You don't fear death?"

Senga looked at him blankly.

"You really don't, do you?" Fili came to sit down beside her and she shrugged.

"Well…" she frowned at the table. "I suppose the dying bit of dying scares me. A bit. You know, that much pain, but the actual being dead bit…" she sighed and shook her head, running her hands up her face and through her hair. "No, that's never scared me. That's _not _why I'm hesitating!" she added exasperatedly.

"Why, then?" Kili asked softly.

"Because…because…" _Because I don't belong here? Because I'm not a dwarf? Because I'm not even that good of a human and running away from my only family because of a selfish, albeit burning, need to find myself (or whatever) hasn't helped?_

"I don't know!" she said eventually, head in her hands. Suddenly Bilbo appeared in the corridor, eyes over-bright, followed by Gandalf. They could just hear Balin and Thorin conversing in low voices out of sight, and Senga sighed.

"I don't know."

"What's the problem, lass?" Asked Oin.

"_None_ of your _fucking_ business." She growled curtly, standing and striding away to the vacant sitting room in search of privacy. Unfortunately, Balin and Thorin had beaten her to it.

"Lassie."

She shut her eyes and leaned against the wall near the door, unable to look at either of them. It was like a miasma had descended on her brain, all thick and grey and _frustratingly _unyielding.

"Bollocks." She growled violently, opening her eyes in time to see Gandalf come back in, eyeing her with consternation.

"Well, what did you expect?" She asked him exasperatedly as he made for an armchair. "Did you think I'd just be blown away and jump at the first word?"

"We were hoping you would have more courage to offer." Thorin said, sounding as frustrated as she felt. "Obviously we were mistaken."

"Let us help you, lassie."

"_Help?_" she repeated in disbelief. "Bilbo's the only one who hasn't looked at me with suspicion or expectation since I got here, an' I'm assuming by Gandalf's reaction that he's not convinced either." She went to the fire and back again, convulsively clenching and unclenching her fists. Thorin scoffed, making her want to kick the fireplace.

"Perhaps if you were to look more closely…I had hoped you would feel something else." Smoke curled above the chair from Gandalf's pipe as he spoke without turning. Senga paused.

"And what was that?"

"Sympathy." He said simply.

"Being sympathetic is no' something I'm famous for. An' if you were looking for that in me, I'm afraid you've got the wrong person." She turned and made to stride out of the room.

"Where are you going?"

"I need a drink." She said wearily.

"Lassie," there was something in Balin's voice made her stop under the lintel. "You can ne' just run away from this."

"I can soddin' well try!" she shot back, belligerence giving her strength as she folded her arms and raised her eyebrows.

"Oh, and is that how you plan to proceed?" Thorin asked sarcastically, face red with anger.

"Gentlemen!" Gandalf had stood, annoyance plain in his face. "Lady," he said after a pause, looking at Senga. "This is not a time for childish behaviour."

"It is not _I_ who is behaving like a child!" Thorin said heatedly.

"Really? You seem to be doing a decent enough impression!" Senga retorted acidly. He whipped his gaze back to hers, contorted with rage. Suddenly Gandalf's voice was like thunder, breaking over both of them like the crashing sea.

"Senga!" he barked, and her next words died in her throat. "Thorin! Cease this at once and kindly remember that you are both warriors, not squabbling dwarflings!"

Still seething, Senga risked a glance to Thorin who had turned brick red. Catching her gaze, he looked furious for a moment, but neither dared more with Gandalf still watching.

"That's better," he said firmly, eying them both. "No, Senga. It might help if you told us what is troubling you!"

Senga didn't speak. She could barely articulate the reason herself, let alone bare her heart to a seemingly hard-hearted, self-centred, quickly-angered –

_Are you describing him, or you?_

_OH, SHUT THE FUCK UP!_

But if there was one thing that really wasn't worth swearing at, it was her own head. She groaned in defeat, wondering if this was like Tiffany Aching's third thoughts watching the rest of her. Honestly? She felt like she was being pulled apart by the two versions of herself that had been at war since the sober one was rescued four years ago. Only, she was one person and they were _both her_, no matter how she romanticised it. _The fuck-up and the fucked-up_. Both and both. _Was that why she was hesitating?_

"Lass,"

Senga was about to cut him off, but Balin silenced her with a look.

"I can't say I understand what you mean by," he began wearily. "But I can at least offer some advice." He looked her right in the eye. "Don't hide yourself away from what your heart wants simply because it seems like the right thing to do, or the clever thing to do. Or because you fear to do it."

"You sound like my Great Uncle." Senga muttered. Balin smiled slightly.

"And what would he say?"

She let out a long sigh.

"He'd tell me to stop blithering like an idiot and go." She said, shaking her head and smiling for a moment. "But you speak of my heart like you expect me to know what it wants."

Balin closed his eyes as Senga turned away, moving away to the hall again.

"Is it here, lassie?"

She stopped dead.

"_What? _Is what here?"

Balin opened his eyes and gave her a wry smile. Her hand slowly wondered to her neck and pulled out the long, gold chain, the locket nestling carefully in her palm. The white-bearded dwarf sighed in wonder, even as Thorin and even Gandalf looked puzzled.

"Tell you what," he said softly. "You just keep that close to your wayward heart, and it'll show you the way."

He winked, leaving her speechless as he went to sit back down. Senga was gobsmacked. Without saying a word more, she shook her head in astonishment and forced her feet to move forward, motivated by the one thought sluicing through the rest.

_I REALLY need a drink._

* * *

"Steady on!"

Kili watched in amazement as she downed an entire mug of ale before filling it up again and downing half.

"Ahh," she murmured. "Real ale. Like wine, though. Sorry, you were saying?"

Kili mouthed wordlessly as she tipped the rest of the second one down her throat and filled it up again. She smiled wickedly at him as she passed, though she knew chucking them back at this time of night was never good. Senga could already feel the reality-numbing effects of the alcohol after only a few minutes, and wondered how it had filled the corners so fast. _Then again _she'd hardly touched a drink in the last year since trying it again for the first time following going on the wagon (and throwing up in one of her cousin's rose bushes).

BUT – there was a time for thinking, and a time for drinking as her motto had once been. It was a stupid, gutter-drowning, fucked-up excuse for a motto, but it was true in some cases. Kili looked at her anxiously as she swayed.

_Okay, she was NOT that bad._

With an effort, she straightened up and acted normally, shoving the sensations of being drunk two drinks in to the place they deserved.

"Still pondering?" Fili asked.

"Yeah," she muttered, sipping the third ale as she carried it through the house.

"You must tell us the secret of getting our uncle so worked up." He said with a grin. Senga groaned slightly, thinking of the weight bumping lightly against her chest. She hadn't forgotten it. An arm went around her shoulders, and she turned to see Kili gazing at her with some sympathy.

"We can do it, you know." He said earnestly. "We'll defeat the dragon, and take back the treasure, and then Erebor will be great again, you'll see."

"You're so sure I'm coming along with you?"

He grinned knowingly in response, and Senga couldn't help smiling back.

"You know," she said quietly as the brothers steered her back into the sitting room. "Any minute now, I keep expecting to wake up on a cold forest floor. Or in a hospital bed."

Kili didn't know what to say to that. He sat her down on the window seat and turned his attention to Thorin who stood by the fire, face illuminated by the flickering light. A deep humming had started among the dwarves; it wavered in the air before her and seemed to reverberate in her bones.

"What did Balin say to you?" Fili whispered.

Senga laid her head on Kili's shoulder, vaguely aware that it was an action she would never have done sober, and answered so quietly they had to strain to hear.

"To listen to my heart."

Her eyes fixed on Thorin's as he stared into the flames, and started to sing.

"_Far over…the misty mountains cold…_

_Two dungeons deep…and caverns old…_"

She felt her eyes burning as his danced with fire like hidden embers, his voice deep and constant as the stone. But there was a gentleness there; a love undimmed by time or distance. It was a song about lost gold, and yet not about that at all. Her head muddled, but the words came cool and clear, more beautiful than anything she'd heard before. Beside her, the brothers had taken up the words, but Thorin's voice could still be heard above those of the dwarves.

Her eyes shut, and she let the rhythm roll through her, slipping into her very breathing; her heart beating slowly in time. She was aware of someone taking the tipping mug out of her hands and of the song rising into the night. A hand stroked her hair, along with Kili's voice, but it was Thorin's she listened to above the haunting chorus.

"_Find what your heart wants…"_

She was falling into the song, down and down into its cradling arms. And, for once, she let go…

* * *

"What happened?" Thorin looked between his two nephews and at the girl on the window seat, dead to the world on Kili's shoulder.

"I think she tried to drown herself." Fili supplied brightly, indicating the tankard. Gandalf let loose a deep sigh.

"Well, there was little more we could have done tonight." He said, a troubled expression on his aged face.

"We leave at first light." Thorin muttered bluntly. "If we have neither her nor the hobbit, I fail to see the purpose in coming here."

Balin tried to comprehend his king. At first it had been simple: Thorin was confused at Senga's unusual appearance, sceptical about her usefulness and upset about the whole affair being organised without his knowledge. It was natural for him to be frustrated, particularly because of the girl's uncanny knack for goading him – a trait that had Balin seriously re-thinking an entire journey with the pair of them. And yet his expression now was almost unreadable, even to someone who'd known him all his life. He was irritated, yes, but there were few outward signs of anger like there had been before.

If Balin looked closer, he thought he could see a softness to Thorin's eyes that hovered around his continued bafflement. Bafflement he sympathised with, for the girl was hardly easy to gauge and it was plainly obvious she was hiding something. That Balin had an idea of what it was hardly made matters easier. Yet, he was sure he could see that rare tenderness few but Balin knew was even there.

He shook his head. It was late, and probably had something to do with his nephews rather than the lass. The pair seemed quite enamoured with Senga, though their antics would hardly count in her favour. He sighed. He knew their quest was a dangerous one, perhaps far more dangerous than any of them had anticipated, but he hoped for everyone's sakes that the boys would stay out of trouble. If Thorin lost them…they were like sons to him. The heirs to his line.

And in any case, Dis would kill him.

Balin almost chucked at the thought of Thorin's sister once worked up to a full rage. He'd seen it only recently when Thorin had agreed to let them join the company, despite their being too young.

He was distracted from this chain of thought by the sounds of Kili shifting Senga gently off of his shoulder and down onto the seat, and of Fili using a chaise throw as a blanket. The look in Thorin's eyes snapped suddenly.

"You think it is _wise_, Gandalf, to take _her_ with us when she cannot even hold herself awake?"

"I think you judge too quickly, Thorin, and on the actions of one faced with the quite unexpected. Myself, I thought she did rather well." The wizard smiled pleasantly, but Balin could tell he was still troubled.

"Aye, and she didn't faint at the first thought of blood," Bofur pointed out optimistically. "You can't deny there's substance to the girl."

"That remains to be seen." Thorin growled, glaring at the sleeping Senga, and then at Fili for being a little _too_ attentive with the blanket. Fili shrunk back, but Kili on the other hand looked at his uncle with drooping eyes.

"She's not coming with us is she?" he asked flatly. Thorin regarded her indifferently for a moment before responding.

"I wouldn't bet on it."

A murmur rose from the dwarves, and Balin spotted Ori near the back looking upset.

"Damn shame, that." Bofur said quietly. Bifur looked to Thorin and uttered a few words in khuzdul that made Thorin turn sharply, shock dancing across his face.

"That has nothing to do with it!" He retorted hotly before striding out of the door. Dori alone looked unsurprised, and Balin had to remind himself that a born poet _noticed _things as much as he missed them. Bofur looked mildly amused.

"We could at least leave them the contracts!" Said Kili hopefully.

"Much as I hate to admit it," Balin began, speaking for the first time. "But there is a point to her not being allowed to go." _Chiefly being to save her more pain, _he added privately, but the brothers weren't convinced.

"You said yourself, Mister Balin, we need all the help we can get," Fili said pointedly. "Why turn down hers'?"

"If she's got as much to offer as you and Gandalf say…" Nori wondered out loud.

"Please!" The wizard said suddenly. "It's very late and I must consider what is to be done about Senga and Bilbo. It would be best if you all got some sleep – and that includes you two." He added, fixing Fili and Kili with a hard stare. Reluctantly, they obeyed, and one by one the other dwarves followed until there was only Balin and Gandalf left.

"What are you thinking?" Balin asked, looking over the sweetly sleeping lass with mixed pity and curiosity.

"I was thinking that it might not have been the wisest way to bring her here without knowledge of what she would be facing." Gandalf puffed on his pipe.

"Then she might never have come at all." Balin pointed out resignedly. "She's conflicted enough now she's here."

"Oh, I don't think conflicted is quite the right word," Gandalf pondered the thought as smoke rings curled about his beard. "I think…uncertain would be more accurate."

"She certainly knows little of herself." Balin agreed, moving to take a cushion from one of the chairs and sliding it delicately beneath her head.

"When I said before that she handled well the unexpected, I was not speaking exaggeration. She is…quite confident of herself when she needs to be."

"Not unlike our two youngest sons of Durin." Balin chuckled. Then he frowned again.

"She is too young for this mission, however we might want to see it."

"She is of age, Balin." Said Gandalf firmly. "And whatever decision she makes will be her own."

"By the reckoning of humans, maybe." Balin grumbled.

"You forget, she _is _human."

The old dwarf sighed heavily.

"Well," Gandalf corrected himself. "Mostly human, anyway."

"That remains to be seen. But, I suppose you are right." Balin turned from stroking her long hair and made to retire to bed himself. "Let us just see what the morning brings, eh?"

"Indeed."

He paused.

"Do you think she'll come?"

"Well, my friend, that really depends."

"On what?"

"On whether she will heed your words or trust to her own sense of common logic." Gandalf made a noise half way between a cough and a groan. "On whether you and her Great Uncle were correct in your opinion of her spirit."

"She has endured much that we cannot ask more." Balin closed his eyes briefly, remembering the sorrow in the letter's words.

"But if she were to accept of her own accord, it would be exceedingly good for her." Gandalf added, gesturing optimistically with his pipe. "And given the right push, I do believe such faith as she has been shown will not go unanswered."

He rose to put a hand on Balin's shoulder.

"She has the potential for great things, my dear Balin. Certainly greater than she would ever guess, and I think in time we will see just how much she can do."

"Aye," Balin nodded gently. "I'd like to see that."

Without another word, he turned to leave her in peace, the wizard still looking her over with an inquisitive eye. Thorin and Dwalin would never believe her capable until they saw it, but hopefully they would all get a chance to witness her true shine, hidden beneath the layers of her armour. There was fire in her, no doubt of that. How hot could it burn? Well, they had a way to go yet before that question would need answering and she would get all the help she needed.

_If_ she came along.

Balin thought of the precious thing that hung around her neck and the fact that she had probably worn it every day since the one she received it. Thorin had asked him what he was referring to when he'd mentioned it, but he'd thought probably best to leave it be for now and said nothing. If Thorin knew precisely what it was, then he'd guess; and if he guessed, then he'd treat her differently and Balin had a sneaking suspicion that wasn't the answer. It was only a stone, in the end. No magical beacon. Was it too much to hope that it had brought her here? Balin could only hope that it would lead her to the truth, because it was only too obvious that she was lost.

Ah, but he was going in circles. Sleep…yes, that would do.

He paused, thinking again of Thorin and what he thought of the girl. The man was difficult to read at the best of times, never mind when he didn't wish his thoughts known at all. Still, Bifur was right in one thing.

She was very pretty.

* * *

_**A.N: The title is, of course, a reference to the song by Blue Oyster Cult, and though it doesn't have much to do with the chapter, I thought the name was quite appropriate. I was very careful while writing the first bit (too careful?) but I think I managed a balance between including and re-writing the bits in the film. I've continued to use Balin's perspective as a way of giving insight onto the rest of the dwarves since I think he's one of the most observant of all of them (and because he's so heavily involved). I know I'm being mysterious when it comes to how this all ties together, but the reason's only really a sub-plot to Senga growing up and developing as a result of the quest. And on that note, I'll keep those cards close to my chest for the time being.**_

_**Oooh, Thorin. I'm going for subtle here, but don't worry I'm gonna develop it properly (partly why I need Balin's insights).**_

_**The reference to 'Tiffany Aching' is from the Wee Free Men storyline out of the Discworld (by Terry Pratchett). Wonderful books, though admittedly more children's books than a lot of the main storyline's he's written. That said, A Hat Full Of Sky was my favourite book for a long time. Very p-filosophical.**_

_**I think that's about it...oh! (shifts uncomfortably) the accenting...well, I've tried to make it mostly consistent, but this is the first time I've ever written dialogue this way and I'm finding it tricky to organise. For now, I'm just putting it down as I'm hearing the character speak (as and when) in order to highlight it for the reader. When I go back to edit, I'll probably straighten it all up, but for now its the best I can do.**_

_**So, my lovelies, reviewing time?**_


	4. Waking the Dead

_**Chapter Three**_

**Waking the Dead**

"Hello?"

Senga groaned. The voice called out again and it rang like a bell on the inside of her skull. Someone was moving about. _Oh, that'll be Natasha; she's always up stupidly early.  
_

_Or am I still on the forest floor?_

She tried to shift to the side and felt something like padding beneath her. Was she in hospital? She didn't feel like opening her eyes. She just wanted to sink down into whatever it was she was lying on and disappear forever. Perhaps she would even find Hobbiton again. Wonder through her better dreams forever..._ the loss she felt now…_

Someone was moving around beyond her eyelids, but she didn't want to see. _Oh,_ but she didn't want to open her eyes and find the _real world_ waiting for her. She didn't think she could've borne it.

_And it had all felt _so_ real…_

She could remember Fili's smirk and Kili's laughing face; the smell of Gandalf and Bofur's pipe weed. Balin's smile. _Thorin's voice as he sang in the dark_…even the _hangover_ felt real…

_Hangover? _

"Oh, you're still here?"

Her eyes snapped open. Then shut again as she winced.

"Arg," she mumbled, clutching her head. "What the _fuck _was in that ale?"

"Um, that last keg? That was Gaffer Gamgee's homebrew – my gardener's." Bilbo answered distractedly. Senga groaned loudly.

"Um," Bilbo padded over from the doorway. "They've gone, haven't they? They've –"

"I'm still here…"

"Sorry?"

Senga sat up slowly, biting back the tears that sprung, pricking, into her eyes.

"This is real." She said quietly. She thought of all the times she'd run off into the forest and hoped it was a magical new world. To laugh and dance – and escape. Yes, escaping would have been nice. All the nights around the fire with her Great Uncle when she could pretend they were on the edge of their world, staring out at the in between place. She'd wanted to run and not look back – to scramble and scratch and claw for something she could neither touch nor see. Something she'd lost (or maybe never had) that left its shape when she stood with the hammer in her hands and the fire in her eyes.

_What in the name of every GOD out there was she fucking _doing?

"Ahhaha!" Headache forgotten, she sprung up from the window and hugged the astonished hobbit around the middle. He yelped in shock and went rigid as a board until she finally released him to stagger wildly around the room. She felt drunk again (and the unstable floor certainly seemed to fit) but it was a feeling altogether more wonderful; empowering. She felt as if she could run to the ends of the earth and –

Spinning round, she spotted the paper bundles on the little table. Both were signed and witnessed and just waiting for them to leave their marks.

"You're crying."

Senga spluttered. She remembered Bilbo and promptly choked the maverick tears to a halt, looking at him properly for the first time.

"'ave you got a pen?"

The hobbit's eyes flicked from her face to the contract in her hands, and then inwards. Moments passed in a weighted silence, Bilbo staring out at the green hills and little rivers of his home. Senga felt emotion hopping freely through her, watching him and seeing the Shire through his eyes. It would never be _her _home, but she'd almost pretended it was when Tolkien wrote of it through Frodo. Through all the really _bad _days, that one battered copy of the first book kept her sane, at least for a while. Yet for him, it must have been…

Then their eyes met again, almost begging each other to say something, _anything_ to make things make sense.

"I'll go and get one." He breathed. Senga's face split in a grin.

* * *

"If you ever tell them…that I teared up…Bilbo Baggins…" Senga panted as they sprinted towards East Farthing woods. "Then I'll nail one of your fingers…to a door!"

"Noted!"

The hobbits in the fields looked at the pair with something akin to horror as they raced past, hurdling fences and barrelling down the way. Bilbo's face had lit up like the summer morning, eyes gleaming. The thought of adventure had taken hold, and not let go. He ran like a maniac and Senga could barely keep up with him, fit as she was, though she was equally tireless. The thrill of the chase coursed through her and her hair whipped out behind her in a copper and willow bark blur, face shining. Slipping and skidding over the hills, the soft grass gradually transformed into leaves as they plunged into woodlands. Just as Senga thought her lungs were about to give out, they saw movement up ahead.

"Wait!"

Gandalf's pointed hat bobbed between the branches.

"Wait! Stop!"

The smell of the ponies hit her the moment they came onto the track, and Senga couldn't help grinning as they slewed to a halt. All thirteen dwarves turned to watch their ungainly arrival and she caught Fili and Kili's exultant laughs. Thorin looked disappointed they'd managed to turn up, but surprised nonetheless. Senga shot him a smug smirk as she made her way to Balin.

"You made your mind up then, lass?"

"Did you ever doubt it?"

The old dwarf beamed at her as she handed up the signed contract, Bilbo at her shoulder to do the same.

"Well…this seems to be in order." He said, winking. "Welcome Bilbo and Senga to the Company of Thorin Oakenshield."

"Give them ponies." Thorin ordered flatly, turning his own to move on.

"Oh, I was wonderin' why you'd got fifteen!" Senga shouted brightly at his back. Fili trotted up beside her with a grey and white mare called Misty and held out a hand to help her into the saddle. She rolled her eyes before leaping up, ignoring the hand, and settled elegantly onto her steed.

"Me Great Aunt raises real horses." She explained before clicking her tongue and nudging Misty in the flank with her foot. Fili raised his eyebrows as his brother shot him a smirk. A commotion behind them revealed Bilbo protesting fervently, and they had to stifle cackles at the sight. It was blatantly clear he'd never ridden anything in his life. Still, at least Myrtle was patient for a pony, putting up with Bilbo's feeble attempts to guide her. Misty, as she quickly found however, was not so tolerant.

"She's a proud creature, she is." Fili looked appraisingly at the animal. "Careful she doesn't throw you."

"I'd like to see her try!"

As if she'd heard, the pony stopped and stamped, whickering indignantly and chewing the bridle.

"'ey, 'ey, steady on!"

The brothers rolled about in their own saddles as Senga jerked the reins and pointed a sharp finger.

"Now look! _I'm _riding _you,_ you got that?"

Misty shook her head again, but relented as Senga jabbed her heels in.

"That's better!"

"Well, you're doing better than Kili did before when he tried to handle her!" Gloin chuckled from behind her. Dwalin scoffed, but she did turn to the red-bearded dwarf in surprise. He seemed to have paid her a genuine compliment, though it was obvious he was still sceptical.

"She just needs to get used to someone else leading, that's all."

She caught Gandalf watching her from near Bilbo and met his mischievous smile.

"Right! Pay up, brother!"

Senga watched as, reluctantly, Fili parted with a pouch of coins, rolling his eyes. All down the line a similar phenomenon was occurring with purses flying in every direction. Dwalin had a sour look on his face as he flung one to Balin, and Oin one to Ori. Bilbo looked confused.

"What's…that all about?"

"You took bets?" Senga asked resignedly, watching as Thorin tossed a pouch to Gandalf.

"Indeed." The wizard pocketed the coins. "Most of them bet you wouldn't turn up."

"I didn't!" Kili smirked as he threw his winnings in the air and caught them again.

"Well, isn't that reassuring." She muttered sardonically. The young dwarf clapped her on the arm.

"How's your head this morning?" he asked suddenly as Senga winced.

"Not good."

A few of the dwarves chuckled.

"Wait. Wait, stop! We _have_ to turn around."

Forgetting the headache and the horrible dry feeling in her mouth for a moment, she turned with the other dwarves to stare at Bilbo searching through his pockets.

"What on _earth _is the matter?" Gandalf eyed him as if he'd gone mad.

"I forgot my handkerchief."

Senga couldn't help giggling, especially as Bofur tossed him a rather suspect looking strip of blanket to use instead, but it did raise an interesting point.

"You know, I don' have much in the way of _things_ myself. I didn't exactly have chance to pack!" She looked back to Gandalf who seemed thoughtful.

"You mean you don't have anything?" Fili asked worriedly. Senga shrugged.

"Bilbo's let me borrow this –" she held up the pack she'd carried from Bag End. "– and a couple of blankets, but apart from that there's just the clothes on my back, my mail and my sword. I don't even 'ave my bow." Suddenly she cursed. "Fuck, my bow! 's a real bow, too, proper made. _Bollocks!_"

"Can you not make do?" Thorin sounded annoyed.

"I suppose I can borrow a couple of things, but I'd rather not trade underwear, thank you very much!"

She could feel Kili's smirk beside her and promptly clocked him with the pack.

"There's a town not far from here that should have everything you need." Gandalf supplied helpfully.

"Bree?"

"How did you guess?"

Senga shook her head, smiling a bit at how bizarre it was.

"Just a hunch."

The column moved on, falling to two abreast along the road. Beside her on her right was Kili, still smug about the bet. Directly in front was Fili, chatting away, and on his right was Nori. Thorin was ahead of them, and behind her were Dori and Bofur. Then it was Balin and Ori, Bifur and Bombur, and Gandalf and Bilbo with Oin and Dwalin bringing up the rear. Dwalin's glare seared the back of her head the longer they went, but she made an effort to ignore it.

Fuck him. If there was one dwarf that _really _didn't like her (apart from Thorin) then out of thirteen that was pretty good. It disturbed her a bit _why _he looked at her like that, though. Was it something she'd done? She had to admit that was likely. She had a habit of making bad first impressions, Thorin's first sight of her being one of the more notable.

Her thoughts stalled as she accidently ran over her track record for long-term 'groups'. She'd never managed to stay part of one for long, under any circumstances. Still…there was something _off_ about how quickly Dwalin had decided. Something she couldn't _quite_ put her finger on…

* * *

The woods and streams thinned gradually over the road as the morning wore on, and near lunchtime disappeared altogether in favour of rocky plains. Sheep dotted the landscape here and there, but other than that the land stretched wide and empty for miles around. A few farms hugged the edges, but that was it. The open sky beckoned them with the glow of early summer, and Senga could only gaze in wonder at how very _clear _everything was. The sky was cleaved sapphire, though the air was a little hazy with the heat. For so very long, Senga had never felt so _free._

If anything was a sign that she had made the right decision, it was this.

"Are you alright?"

She turned back to Dori and realised she'd stopped.

"Fine." She said softly, nudging Misty onwards. The pony seemed to roll her eyes, dismissing the landscape, but Senga found it impossible.

"Senga?"

"Kili, you know that feeling you get when you're about to do something that _means _something?"

"Oh, I got that when we left Ered Luin." Fili answered without hesitating. "Like a swooping feeling?"

"I remember that on my first hunt." Kili looked introspective as they moved on. "That moment when everything slots into place."

Senga smiled at him, and it felt more genuine than many recent smiles had done. Kili seemed taken aback.

They travelled on in companionable silence, descending the rise they had appeared on and then onto the downs proper. Bombur was eating something before Senga noticed they hadn't stopped.

"Don' suppose lunch warrants a break?" She asked dryly.

"Hungry?"

Bofur shot her a grin as she turned back round.

"Sort of skipped breakfast."

"Ah, just eat as you go for now."

He turned to his bags and found a slightly squashed piece of seedcake that looked suspiciously like Bilbo's. She wasn't complaining, however, as he handed it over. That it tasted like hobbit fare was well enough for her to shut up and munch it down.

"That's the ticket!" Bofur commented approvingly. They made a steady pace as they crossed the downs in the afternoon. The hills continued to touch the sky, though, and as the sun neared the horizon she found her gaze drawn to the distant shadows of earthworks in the distance. They lay on the land, here and there, like great beehives. If she let her vision wonder, she could almost pretend they were the hulks of sleeping dragons, curled up for the dusk. Then again…

"Gandalf?" She called back, uncertainty lacing her gaze.

"My dear Senga, is something troubling you?"

"No…" she turned back to the fading shapes of the barrows. "But is it, um, wise to be out here after nightfall?" They weren't going to get to Bree until at least the next day, despite the pace they were making, and Senga felt her anxiety rising. Much as she didn't fear death, or even pain for that matter, she didn't relish meeting its handiwork in the form of long dead kings. It'd unnerved her reading about the hobbits' encounter on the Barrow Downs the first time, and playing _Skyrim_ since then hadn't improved her opinion.

Gandalf followed her gaze, and a crease appeared in his brow.

"Oh, I don't think we should worry too much." He said amicably, though the crease was still there. "We are on the road, and far from where we should disturb those peaceably resting."

"Who's peaceably resting?" Ori looked between them worriedly.

"Oh, they say the spirits of the dead rise and walk the downs." Fili said casually. He and Kili exchanged barely concealed smirks as Ori gulped. Several of the dwarves shook their heads as Kili went on to describe the townsfolk going missing in the night, but Bilbo still looked as worried as Senga, staring at the distant shadows through the fading light.

"My mother used to talk to us about old cousin Rory, wondering off to the downs and coming back weeks later with no memory of what had happened."

"Probably fell down a rabbit hole."

Oin's comment raised a chortle. Bilbo went red-faced.

"The reputation of these lands is nothing to be joked about." Thorin spoke for the first time all day. "But, I agree with Gandalf that it is safe as long as we are careful."

That shut them up. Kili cast Senga a sidelong glance before staring out over the hills, probably in an attempt to find what she was looking at. She poked him and rolled her eyes.

"Miss Senga?"

Senga turned to see Ori trying to crane around his brother.

"Are there really ghosts out here?"

_More like walking corpses_, Senga thought dryly as she looked into his all too innocent face.

"Only if you stumble over them to nick their grave-goods." She said exasperatedly. "Anyway, I don' think they'd attack Gandalf, do you?"

This seemed to make him feel better, which was surprising considering the effect she normally had on people.

_They'll see soon enough, _said a cruel voice in her head. She tensed slightly, subconsciously checking if Kili had seen. Light was fading fast now, the burnished-gold sky burning into the west. She caught Bilbo watching it as it illuminated his home. It had taken her a long time – longer than she would ever admit – to see beauty in the world once more. First she'd seen it in her stories, and then, slowly, in the world before her eyes. She'd always seen it in the Shire, though. Beauty…was to do with the love people had for something.

"So, Senga," Fili turned his head to catch her eye. "You done much of sleeping rough?"

"A bit. Me older cousins are always off on mountainsides and they always _beg_ me to come with them. Which I do," she conceded thoughtfully. "Didn't used to, but they soon set me straight."

"Well that's good to hear." Kili said enthusiastically. "I was worried we were going to have to show our good lady the ropes."

"Ooh, and I bet you were _really _looking forward to tha'!"

"It's alright, Senga." Fili whispered conspiratorially. "I think it's just been a while since my brother's been around a woman."

Senga stifled a snort as Kili aimed a piece of bark he'd picked up at Fili's nose.

"So what are they like, your cousins?" Kili asked, suddenly civil again.

"Well…" Senga betrayed nothing but polite interest on her face, but…she didn't know them _that _well. There were many, each as variable as the next, and the closest had all made an effort when she came back into their midst. And she _did _love them, but she couldn't lie and say they were close. She didn't _do _close. Something prickled at the back of her mind, but she pushed it away with well-schooled anger.

"They're good people." She said finally. _And they all have someone else_.

For a moment she thought Kili wanted to pursue the matter, but to her relief he must have sensed she didn't want to discuss it because he quickly changed the subject.

"Are you any good at cooking, then?"

"Ha!"

"What?"

Senga shook her head, the poking sensation at the back of her mind evaporating as she giggled.

"I can cook, Kili, I can. Whether it's edible or not, I wouldn't kno' since no-one's ever asked me more than once." She gave him a pointed look as he smirked.

"That bad?"

"That bad."

"Ah well, we've still got Bombur." Bofur said cheerily. Night fell around them like a spell, the deep blue of the day fading slowly to navy, and then to black. Lanterns were lit among the dwarves, but it wasn't long after that Thorin called a halt.

"We'll stay here for the night," he called clearly, though Senga thought she could detect a hint of weariness in his voice. "We're too far out in the open to light a fire, so we'll just have to make do. We move out at dawn."

A noise of assent rose from the company, along with a number of groans as they dismounted the ponies. Senga winced considerably as she went to move. Saddle-sore was something she'd read in many places, but had never until then appreciated quite what it was. Her bottom felt like it was bruised and she was embarrassed at the prospect of her thighs being stuck in shape.

"I thought you said you'd ridden before?"

"No' for this long, I haven't!"

She shot a glare at the unconvinced Fili, striding around as if he hadn't a care in the world. _Bugger him to fucking hell!_

Still, looking around the growing makeshift camp, she got the feeling the boys had more problems than she did. And still there was that feeling in the back of her mind, like buzzing almost.

"'ave we got enough water?" She asked Bofur as he passed.

"Aye, plenty. And there's a stream past the village where we can fill up."

Senga nodded before leading Misty away to picket her with the rest of the ponies. Gandalf had settled himself on a small hill overlooking the road, pipe smoke caught in the lamplight, and she could see Bombur, Ori, Nori, Gloin, Dwalin and Oin opening the supply bags in the relative middle of the group. Balin sat a few feet from her, seemingly lost in thought, and Fili and Kili were tending the ponies. Dori was playing company to Bifur and Bilbo, and Thorin was stood a little way away, staring over the hills.

"We should keep a watch tonight," Balin said suddenly, making her jump. "I know we're just out of the Shire, but it would do to take precautions."

Thorin acknowledged him with a nod. Both looked troubled.

"What's for dinner?" Senga asked casually.

"Cold sausages and some more of that seedcake." Bofur replied with a wink. Dwalin gave her a glare.

"But you can make yourself useful by assisting Fili and Kili first." He said harshly, digging one of the lamps into the grass.

"Oh, but _of course_ sir, _anything _for sir!" she spat, anger boiling again. "As if I was gonna fucking walk away withou' helping!"

She gave him a look as good as she got, threw down her pack, and stalked through the heard of ponies, grabbing the first one and looking him over. If they were restless before, they were champing now, though one look from her all but stilled them in their steps.

"You know," Fili said from somewhere to her left. "You shouldn't take it to heart."

"Mister Dwalin doesn't like a lot of people." Kili came up beside her with the brushes. Still seething, she took them with a grimace and started cleaning away the sweat and dust. Her temples thumped painfully for some reason, and it seemed the boys had agreed by unspoken consent not to disturb her. Sixteen ponies, no injures, and a good while later saw the three of them going to sit down, Bombur handing them the dinner he'd saved.

Mercifully, Dwalin had already retired along with Dori, Oin and Gloin. Balin now sat with them in the lamplight, looking more troubled than ever.

"He'll come round." Was all he'd say as he looked to where Dwalin was trying to get comfortable.

"Fucked if I care wha' he thinks of me." She bit into a sausage with more violence than necessary. Balin frowned.

"It's one thing not to care, another to dispense completely with how others see you."

Senga looked up, frowning.

"No singing tonight, then?" she asked thornily.

"It was you who brought up the subject of not disturbing the barrows."

Thorin's voice sounded out of the dark. She turned. With the waning moon, she could barely see him, but his eyes stood out through the gloom. They were like reflections of the night sky seen through the pond in her Great Aunt's garden. A sight she'd looked at it hundreds of times – hundreds of times when she'd wanted to be alone and just wondered the garden. She never thought she'd see the colour anywhere else, though.

_The prickling stung._

"Was there something you wanted?"

She realised abruptly that she'd been frowning at him.

"No, I'm just…tired tha's all."

His mystified look followed her as she stood and went to find her pack. The balmy evening had taken on a chill and she pulled out her borrowed bedroll and blanket, setting the bedroll near a stunted tree. As she looked into the night, something caught the periphery of her vision. She froze, a hand drifting unconsciously onto the hilt of her sword. Yet when she looked, there was nothing there. Uneasiness crept into her, and she returned to the lamplight clutching the blanket around her shoulders.

"Um, Miss Senga?"

She looked up to find Bilbo watching her from where he sat between Nori and Fili.

"You haven't said much about yourself." He said with a nervous smile. It might have been endearing had it been another question, but Senga felt the walls close down. _No. _The prickling became almost consciously painful as she shut down the thoughts that question brought. _Just no._ With a humourless smile, she looked him right in the eye and replied "I don't".

Fili and Kili looked anxiously at each other and Bofur gave her the first frown she'd seen on him.

"And why's that?"

"That, my dear Bofur, would be telling!" Said an amused voice behind her. They all turned in surprise to see the wizard's silhouette coming towards them off the hill. Gandalf met her eyes for a fraction of a second before joining their gathering. Perhaps it was her imagination, but he seemed bothered too.

"So," he continued, betraying nothing. "The end of the first day?"

_I should have been back at my Great Uncle's house, _Senga thought suddenly. She'd never gone more than a day or two without seeing him – not since coming to live with him, anyway. The downs seemed to press down, and she wished she could just go out into the twilight and be alone. To talk to someone who would _understand_ or not talk at all, either of the two.

_Oh, if there was ever a time I _needed _to talk to you, Great Uncle…_she thought miserably. She could talk to him. Like she could talk to no-one else. When he was there, she wasn't alone.

_The shadows looked almost like they were creeping up on them…_

"Senga?" Gandalf looked slightly amused.

"You're quite absent tonight, aren't you?" Kili gave her a friendly rub on the shoulders, trademark grin making her feel marginally better. Yet it seemed as if there was something upsetting everybody, settling over the mood like the rising vapour of a bog. Gandalf's smile faded, and Balin seemed deep in thought. Unbidden, her eyes drifted to the figure of Thorin, still stood on the hilltop. Dark _things_ seemed to shift in the world beyond him, yet he stood steadily. Gandalf followed her gaze.

"Always evil seeks to turn that which we hold closest against us." He murmured mysteriously, causing the others to turn.

"I just wan' to sleep." She said softly.

* * *

_She was running. Her feet pounded on cold concrete floors and threadbare carpets._

_They hurt._

_She could smell dust, and cigarettes. A sickly, pungent smell hung in clouds where drink had spilt. But it was better than the other smell..._

_She ran. She was screaming._

_The house was silent._

_She went into every room, every cupboard, every hidden place, and somewhere inside she _knew_. She was old enough to _know. _To understand._

_She just didn't want to._

_Then she was in _the _room. The room that smelt different. The room that smelt of iron and something sour like vinegar, yet nothing like that at all. It smelt like the taste in her throat._

_But it was…empty._

_There should have been a table and a sofa and a lamp with a shade in the corner. There should have been magazines and papers and an old toy lost behind the stereo. There should have been a mark on the floor… _

_She was taller. She was no longer the girl running through the house._

_But the carpets were _thin – _beneath_ _them should have stained when they ripped them out, but the concrete was like a blank page. The walls were grey when the paper was removed. Just…grey. There was nothing there._

_HOW could there be NOTHING? How could there be not a single sign left – as if it hadn't happened at all? No…there had to be something…that kind of _shit _didn't just –_

_Something was behind her._

_Right behind her._

_Oh…it wasn't enough to tear up the memory…_

_She couldn't turn._

_They wanted _her.

_She couldn't turn._

_She tried to remember what she'd been doing…_

_A hand. It came into her vision from behind; skeletal and blackened with rags that hung from the withered flesh. Dark and dank with fingernails like claws. It reached for her…_

* * *

"Aarg!"

Everything rushed back like a thunderclap and she punched out at the dark figure before her with everything she had. It fell with a muffled yelp, landing in a heap by her feet. For a moment she just breathed heavily and stared at the shadowed person-thing.

_Well, these fuckers certainly had another thing coming, _she thought as it moaned lowly. _Why that memory? Why –_

Then she stared. Someone…someone close-by…was laughing. And those moans…her eyes adjusted to see a pale face, a mass of dark hair –

"Kili!"

"Ow…"

Fili was rolling about on the grassy knoll as his brother slowly sat up, blood streaming from the right side of his nose. Many of the dwarves were grumbling at the three of them, having been woken from their restless slumbers, but she just stared at the awkwardly retreating Kili as her heart returned to normal.

"You…" Senga tried to be angry. She really tried, particularly after the dream. But whether it was from the sight of Kili clutching his right eye, or the sheer relief, she simply couldn't. She just burst out laughing.

"You…utter bastard!" She panted, giggling uncontrollably.

"I told you," Fili gasped, clutching a stitch. "I told you, you shouldn't try it!"

"Still won the bet."

Kili pressed a sleeve to his nose as the rest of the camp stirred fitfully, grinning at Fili despite himself. Fili looked into Senga's face briefly and nodded, still unable to contain his mirth. Senga looked between them in confusion, before deciding she was too tired to care. She just laughed with Fili, feeling the oppressive presence fade slowly away as she stared at the star-strewn sky.

* * *

It was back in full force the next morning. The dream hadn't returned, but its presence felt more vivid in the eerie mists that hung over the grass. The laughter that lulled her to sleep was all but gone, replaced by a desolate anger that made her want to wrap herself in the ground when Kili came to wake her. Still, the sight of one of the best black eyes she'd ever seen lifted the feeling somewhat.

"You deserved tha'." She said dryly, eyeing him as he dragged her to her feet. "Looks nasty."

"It was!" He whined, wincing as she touched it.

"Oh? I think it looks fetching!" Fili smiled brightly from by the ponies. "Pity you didn't give him a better nose while you were at it."

"Tha' reminds me," she said suddenly, looking between them as she packed up. "What was the bet abou'?"

Kili looked sheepish.

"I…just bet our little joke would cheer you up, that's all."

"_Cheer me up?_"

"Well you were looking a bit down-hearted after what Dwalin said."

She looked between the two of them; two people actively trying to make her feel _better_, and could only shake her head. The cruel voice in her thoughts ate at whatever mood she'd managed to regain and she nearly found herself _pitying _them. Yet they were so _good _to her, it was almost –

"What on earth happened, laddie?" Oin looked from him to her.

"Sounds like our Miss Senga got the better of him." Bofur smiled widely. "He'll think twice before he tries that again."

"Alright, now let us move out without delay." Thorin wasn't even waiting for breakfast, clearly in a worse mood than her. "Kili, let me see."

Reluctantly, Kili turned his head as his uncle approached, letting him examine the damaged eye and sore nose. Thorin's eyes grew dangerous as he saw it properly, turning from Kili to Senga and back again.

"So," he said slowly. "You couldn't last two days without attacking one of our number?"

"Um, actually it was my fault…" Kili tried to intervene, but Thorin was already stepping in front of Senga, anger dancing in his eyes. Up close, he looked as if he'd barely slept at all; a hard, sharp fury stringing his whole body. Yet it was all controlled and honed into a warning plain as day.

Even Senga on a normal day would have backed down. It was the sensible thing to do, the _right _thing to do given that it wasn't a normal situation, and Senga-on-a-normal-day would've at least tried to be reasonable. The third thoughts were there and if she listened to them –

"Problem?" she said acidly, tone rising irrationally. Thorin leaned close until their noses were nearly touching.

"If you _ever _put a mark like that on one of my kin again…" he paused so that the air between them pulsed. "…you _will _live to regret it."

The room flashed before her eyes. _Blank and empty._

"Oh, and you'll do worse things?" she said, voice barely above a whisper. White noise obscured all thought as she rose on her toes to meet his surprising height, shivering like a bowstring as black anger burned through her.

"You have no idea what I'm capable of!"

_Oh, I think he's getting an idea of what you're capable of doing to yourself! _Screamed a voice somewhere in her head, but her words had already had their effect. Thorin's face went white. Without warning, he grabbed Senga's upper arm and all but wrenched it. The rest of the dwarves were silent with shock, many of them clutching their weapons but staring between the two of them at a complete loss. Senga felt the pain, distantly, but all she wanted to do was shove her blade through his gut in response. She wanted to tear his face off for _daring _to think he could scare _her_.

But she couldn't move. He had her right arm in a vice-grip and they were too close to manoeuvre for her only weapon. Something was wrong, but she had stopped listening to reason. She struggled, expecting the fight, no longer caring why.

Yet the seconds ticked by. Thorin still held her by his original grip, but he wasn't moving at all, holding them still as statues in the grass. Then…

"Thorin! You are not yourself!"

Gandalf was striding towards them, fury in his stride, his face bloodless, yet his voice was like breaking a spell. Thorin leapt away from her as if he'd been burned, leaving Senga staring blankly after him. No one made a sound as the dwarf backed away, breathing hard. Fili and Kili looked utterly terrified.

"Are you neither of you hurt?" Gandalf asked harshly, looking from one to the other.

"No." Thorin answered after a moment, still staring at Senga. Senga couldn't speak. She couldn't move. And then she could, and she did, all but sprinting to Misty's side and leaping up. The dwarves abruptly found their tongues and began shouting after her, but she spurred the animal into a gallop on the road, and was gone.

* * *

_**A.N: So, this is actually a couple of word pages shorter than I would normally go for in a chapter, but considering it's near the end I decided it would be more appropriate to deal with the consequences of all this at the start of the next chapter. In the meantime, I do apologise for the HORRIBLE ending (not that it's stylistically crap - I like it personally - just that I know it's cruel for the reader). Sorry!**_

_**Not too sure whether the whole 'oppressive presence' is strictly cannon, but I thought it was a nice idea anyway. It allowed me to start to explore the more extreme parts of Senga's character while she's still more or less in the offing of her development. What I wanted was something raw about her - something I didn't quite dig deep enough into her to find in the previous chapters. And I needed to shape it with the help of how the other characters are seeing her. **_

_**With Bilbo, since he's such a quiet character, the transition from stranger to part of the group happens very subtly, the animosity between him and Thorin notwithstanding. I couldn't have that with Senga because she just ISN'T quiet, and she HAS got problems establishing herself socially in the long term. There's a deep-seated pain about her that I want to flesh out and thread through her ways of protecting herself, and defending herself, and isolating herself. Sorry I'm writing an essay about this, but I've never quite worked on a concept like this before. There are bits to her that aren't pretty, that aren't nice. Had to re-write most of this after I figured out where it was going because I'd given Senga reactions far more suited to me than to her: she was being NICE! I had her being NICE to Ori and Gloin, for christ's sake. I think I've fixed it - like, I don't want her to be horrible, just hard-edged and taciturn in her own way.**_

_**Starting out on the journey, anyway. Wow...that's a lot, but it's good writing this down. Bored? Well, a simpler way to look at it is the Barrow Downs' dreams gave me the perfect excuse to give away some of her past. There.**_

_**'They've all got someone else' is a line from Doctor Who (ep13 series 4) and Gaffer's homebrew is mentioned by Frodo in the Fellowship film. Also, FUCK IT'S TRICKY DOING SIXTEEN CHARACTERS! AAAAARG!**_

_**Review? (hopeful fluttering eyelashes) And again, sorry for being a cruel bitch with the ending.**_


	5. Dressed for the Occasion

_**Chapter Four**_

**Dressed for the Occasion**

"Well that could've gone better."

Dwalin's voice cut through the heavy silence left in the wake of Misty's departure. One forgot that ponies could go like stabbed rats when they wanted to. Of course, they weren't as fast as horses, their legs were too short, but when they went, they _went._ Thorin fixed him with a look like thunder, still robbed of all his breath. Fili and Kili looked as if they wanted to leap right up and chase after her, but were still too paralysed to move, and Gandalf simply looked weary. Balin watched the wizard's eyes and saw in them a deep sadness. What in the name of Durin had befallen them? The old dwarf felt as if he should say something; something that would bring them wisdom, but no words came. Instead, he looked sharply at his brother and resisted the urge to say the words in Khadzul he knew he would regret.

"But…but where's she going?" Ori asked weakly.

"She's left us." Oin growled.

"She's probably sought solitude for the time being," Balin said, voice much more firm than he felt. "She'll no' leave us."

"Oh, is tha' what you think?" Dwalin advanced towards him, voice caustic. "I'm amazed she got this far!"

"Oh, come on, that's not fair!" Kili matched between them before Dwalin could reach him.

"Get out the way, lad." He growled, and then to Balin he continued. "You should never have brought her along."

"That was _my_ request, if you'll remember." At Gandalf's words, the group fell silent once more, though Dwalin still seethed. "Now I do not know what problem you seem to have with Miss Senga, Mister Dwalin, but I do _suggest_ you cease it at once. In the meanwhile…it is high time we left this place."

No one was going to argue with that. Balin sighed heavily as the company departed in silence, hoping against hope that he was right. If she had run off? She had nowhere to go. Thorin had flatly refused to be responsible for Bilbo, but Balin thought it unfair to do that to the girl – not that she would've agreed, of course. If her words to Thorin weren't proof that she was capable of fending for herself, he didn't know what was. And yet he, Balin, had promised her Great Uncle that he'd keep an eye on her.

He felt the guilt of failure settling in as they started back on the way. Dwalin refused to look at him, and that pained him more than he could say. Had she really gone?

Out of morbid curiosity, he stole a look to the still shaken Thorin. Now, he'd known the prince all the younger dwarf's life, and he'd _never_ seen him lay a hand to a woman like that. Never. Not in almost two hundred years. He fancied he could see the revulsion manifesting in Thorin's thoughts as they rode towards Bree.

"What was that, Gandalf?" he asked at last. The old man paused for a moment.

"A mirror."

"Do not mince words with me, wizard." He snarled. "Something overcame us, and I demand you tell me what it was!"

"A force designed to turn whatever it found against the victim until he or she is consumed by it. I say it was a mirror, Thorin Oakenshield, because as you and Miss Senga demonstrated, it was able to reflect more strongly those feelings already harboured inside yourselves than in any other of your company."

"You say I harbour violence?"

"I say you harbour anger," Gandalf said patiently. "And that it was amplified beyond your will to control it."

"It wasn't your fault, laddie." Balin fixed him an imploring look. Thorin looked away, still shaking with either shock or anger (it was difficult to tell) but said nothing.

"Let us just leave this accursed place." Gloin muttered.

They continued to move in silence, each looking as miserable as the next. He barely noticed when Kili came up beside him on his pony, anxiety flowing off of him in waves. The purpling around his eye was, in fact, quite impressive; especially considering it had been a blind shot. Balin couldn't help being relieved, though, that she hadn't done what certain others had done in drawing a knife to fend off the horrors.

"Mister Balin," he said at length, voice quiet. "I don't think I understand."

"Your uncle has much he doesn' like to make freely known, laddie." And then because Kili was still frowning, he added. "He likes to bottle things up, does Thorin. He has much in his heart that would cause him pain…and anger."

"And…" the lad looked almost afraid to ask. "…Miss Senga?"

Balin could only frown and say nothing. It wasn't his place to tell of Senga's secrets, the bare bones of them he knew. Kili looked more worried than before, anxiously watching the distant shadow move further and further out of sight. Balin heaved a sigh. He could only wonder what shape Senga's demons had taken to make her pain equal to Thorin's.

The morning warmed quickly, and soon the sky began to take on the rich beauty it had the day before. As they passed from the plane to the spartan cover of ash and birch groves, the colour deepened even more. The relief of the company for leaving the downs was so palpable Balin almost smiled, though the air still hung heavy enough. He wondered where Senga had fled to, for they had long since lost sight of her. Perhaps she would be waiting for them?

It was a small thing to hope.

The trees grew increasingly dense thickets as they continued so that the road began to wind through rough patches of tangled woodland. Looking up, Balin searched absently for the sky through the leaves, the gaps in the canopy almost causing it to sparkle as they passed beneath. It reminded him of the deep crystalries of the mountain where the sapphire once gleamed, ready to be cut. In Erebor, he'd wondered how anyone could mourn the sky in the presence of such beauty.

A shout from Fili in the front brought him back to the present.

"Is that the village, Gandalf?"

"Yes." The wizard squinted toward the motley collection of houses ringed by a low wall. "Yes, that is Bree. We must enter it for a short while whilst I speak with Mr Butterbur at the inn."

"Do you think she'll be waiting for us?" Fili looked hopeful at least.

"I wouldn' hold your breath." Dwalin said darkly.

"No? I think you've got the wrong end of the stick about her, right there." Bofur gestured his pipe towards the village. "She's the kind to see this through, Dwalin, and you know we've only been on the road shy of two days."

"The measure of someone can be seen in one." Thorin growled, finally recovering some of his composure. Relieved as he was, Balin frowned at him.

"You're so _sure_ about that?"

The dwarf prince bristled; face closed, but said nothing further. Balin got the sense that something was troubling him beyond the extremity of his actions, but for the moment he couldn't think of what. He seemed…agitated. Distracted even, yet they had not gone more than a few miles further before they came across an odd sight that silenced the group and Balin's questions.

Fili saw it first, halting the company beneath a stretch of young beech that gathered thickly over large rocks. The dwarves gathered in the road as he pointed to where a fine – and, in Balin's opinion, quite excellently crafted – corselet of mail hung from the low branch of a tree.

"Now tha's a pretty thing to leave lying around." Oin commented admiringly. Thorin frowned. He gestured slightly and Fili and Kili dismounted, making their way to the bend in the road. As they neared the corselet, Kili reached for his bow. Suddenly something in the trees beyond seemed to catch his eye and the young dwarf bounded out of sight into the undergrowth. Thorin groaned, dismounting hastily in order to follow. _Honestly,_ Kili's ability to leap towards potential trouble was quite _breath-taking_ sometimes.

"Kili!" Thorin called as he reached where Fili still stood on the track.

"It's Misty!"

They all followed his voice until they came upon the pony, carefully picketed in a small clearing. Balin could hear the steady trickle of running water close-by and there were definite footprints towards the sound. Bilbo had noticed too and was already following the trail to where it passed out of sight behind a rock.

"Um…" he stopped as he rounded the boulder, mouth opening and closing. Then Senga's voice lifted lightly through the little grove.

"_Well,_ I was wondering when you lot 'd pass by."

Fili and Kili's faces spit into equally relieved grins as Thorin marched to the front. What he saw gave him the strangest expression of confusion and shock Balin had ever seen him wear.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Senga's liquid green eyes stared at him with tangible annoyance.

"I needed a bath."

* * *

Perhaps it was the combination of exhaustion and sheer stress, but Senga wasn't really thinking when she found the stream. Somehow, in the blink of an eye, she'd forgotten who she was and everything she'd done in four years to claw herself anew. She'd wanted to lash out, to bloody the man before her, though she'd known somewhere in her dulled common-sense it was a fight she couldn't win. It hadn't mattered.

Misty whickered in distress. Senga knew she shouldn't have been pushing the animal so hard, but she couldn't bring herself to stop. They had left the company far behind, but the open downs were still beneath her, so she drove onward. All she had wanted to do was _leave_. To get beyond the reach of whatever it had been and then collapse at the end of it. It wasn't until she heard the change in Misty's hoof beats and felt the shade of the tress on her back that she finally slowed them down.

The pony was shivering with exhaustion, but made no protest.

_Ironic, _she thought as she steered Misty to a stop. _So this is how I earned her respect?_

She made to dismount, only to have fire lance through her left shoulder blade. Biting a whimper, she managed to get to the ground before clutching blindly behind her. The short sleeve of her mail had protected her from Thorin's grip, but not the way he'd pulled her forward. The movement had done a number on her muscles and it _hurt. _Growling in frustration, she struggled to get her shirt off and remove the weight of the metal. She almost cried out in relief as she lifted it off and slung it on a low branch, though the dull burning persisted.

_Fuck._

The wrapped the red shirt over her right arm and tried to think straight.

_Fuck._

She felt terrible. Not only because of the dream or even the searing memory of the anger, but she felt shame for the way she'd reacted. She felt _wretched _for what was going through her head.

_And now you've gone and fucked it up again._

She stood still and tried not to cry – she would _not cry_. She would scream and hack at the world, but she would not cry for her own misery. She'd spent enough time in her youth doing just that and the time wasted was obscene. Suddenly she realised she was aching, alone, injured, exhausted and sticky. Yes, _sticky _– she could feel the evidence of wearing the same clothes three days in a row and the horrible build-up of dirt and grime on her skin and under her nails. Her hair felt like it was lathered in wax, and she didn't even _try_ to work out what she smelt like.

Turning about, she ripped off the worst: the thin, black _Star Wars _tee-shirt she'd been using as an undershirt for her armour. As it came off, she felt the cool touch of the wind against her bare skin and hoped no one was around to watch. She hadn't bothered with a bra – she could get away without one in many situations and the corselet was heavy enough to compensate. She paused, and then put the red shirt back on, shuddering at the grit she felt on it. Then she staggered off to find water. When she reached it, she leapt in, still fully clothed, and plunged her shoulder beneath the surface. She had to lie down to do it, but it felt so _fucking _good.

She might have bolloxed up her chance with the dwarves, dug up the corpse of what she was trying to get away from and fucked up completely, but, just for a moment in the cool, running water, she found peace.

_Why had Thorin stopped?_ He could've done a lot worse, though she remembered the look of horror he'd given her as he'd backed away. Why had he held them still? By doing so, he'd probably saved them both a serious fight…something the malignance had obviously been hoping for…

Her mind slowed to a sluggish halt. She shut her eyes…and hours later she heard Fili's voice. At length, she realised that a stream off the road might not have been the best place to fall asleep. Mind you, it said something, but she'd fallen asleep in worse places. She didn't open her eyes as she heard the dwarves approach. Kili's voice sounded as he found her pony, and Thorin's shout floated over her as the younger dwarf crashed through the trees.

He sounded concerned. _Thorin concerned _– for something other than the continuation of the quest…Senga felt her brow crease just a bit.

Bofur's voice joined the others' as they milled around Kili and Misty, yet still she didn't open her eyes. She wondered if they'd still want her there – the trouble-magnetised fuck-up with an aptitude for alienation. She should put that on her CV; save time. Soft footsteps told her she'd been discovered, but the illusion that she was all alone in her piece of abstract paradise could be held for a little longer, couldn't it? She imagined she was in one of the surrealist's paintings. As she answered Bilbo, she envisioned the trees like hands, the ducks flying past with fingers for wings –

She stopped as she realised she was seeing _Monty Python_.

Her eyes snapped open, mildly irritated at the world in general.

And met…_his _eyes.

For a split second, it was as though they'd smashed into each other again; neither able to look away. It was like staring into the anvil clouds of a thunderstorm, or one of _Constable's _renditions. Thorin himself seemed unable to move, mouth open slightly as he finally dropped his eyes to the rest of her.

Why the hell that look made her suddenly _very _aware of the way her wet shirt clung to her chest, she didn't know. She had to fight the urge to cover herself; to remember that she _was_ in fact covered, albeit a little less civilly than usual. The dwarf seemed to snap.

"What do you think you're doing?"

_As if that's any of your business! _She thought indignantly, broken from the moment as quickly as he.

"I needed a bath." She responded curtly, making several of the other dwarves laugh. Her eyes snapped to Fili and Kili, both looking her up and down with mingled surprise and delight.

"Well I'm not surprised, considering she's been around us for a whole day." Bofur commented cheerily. Oin and Gloin laughed uproariously with the rest as Senga took his offered hand and came, dripping, out of the stream. Ori looked deeply uncomfortable, but pleased. _Pleased? Who EXACTLY in their RIGHT MINDS would be PLEASED to see HER?_

"You alright, Miss Senga?" She looked back at Bofur.

"Shi'." She murmured. He smiled widely and turned as Kili approached with her chain.

"It's beautiful, this."

He looked slightly nervous as he handed it over, handling the corselet with almost exaggerated care. Fili, at his shoulder, smirked incorrigibly, making him blush suddenly as he handed it over and stammer an excuse to see to the pony.

"See," Bofur reached to put an arm around Bombur. "That's how _not _to impress a fair lass."

Bifur said something indecipherable that made Kili blush even worse and Fili double over with laughter. Senga raised an eyebrow, and noticed Gandalf leaning casually against a tree.

"You seem quite recovered." He said amicably.

"Well…" she said slowly. "I wasn't expecting that. What happened, Gandalf?"

The wizard looked tiredly away for a moment, and Senga saw Thorin a little way away looking intensely into the stream.

"I believe you both experienced the displeasure of the local residents." He said dryly.

"Well, no shit Sherlock!"

Gandalf chuckled.

"Well, I do not think there is any permanent harm done." He said with a smile. "And I believe that some good has at least come from this."

"Is tha' so?"

"You do not agree?"

"We nearly killed each other." She said bluntly, oblivious to Bofur's sudden raised eyebrows or Balin's look to Thorin and back. "How the fuck was tha' a good thing?"

"Oh, I believe it highlighted what Balin and I have been trying to convey about your nerve, Senga."

She stopped.

"Righ'." She muttered, turning away. _Mental. Utterly mental. Loop-the-fucking-loop…_

"Are you sure you're alright, lassie?"

* * *

They reached Bree at about ten O'clock, arriving at a gate that seemed altogether less solid than its future counterpart. The man at the gate seemed a bit…dubious about letting in thirteen heavily armed dwarves and, ironically, even more hesitant about a woman in a man's clothes. But, he knew Gandalf and so waved them in with a nervous smile.

"So…um, where's this shop?"

"Down the main street and on the left." Gandalf said briskly, dismounting and heading off in the direction of the Prancing Pony. Senga stared after him, surreptitiously adjusting her shoulder. She hadn't mentioned her injury to the dwarves, though she'd caught Nori and Bofur giving her strange looks. It was easily covered. And still something was _bothering _her. She tried to hide it, laughing with Fili and Kili, but it continued to lie there, occasionally stirring. The brothers seemed almost joyous that she hadn't disappeared into the blue, and Dori had wasted no time in admiring the corselet. He said it was a work of art – _remarkable_, he'd said, for a smith so young.

"Particularly a human smith." Oin had added, nodding appreciatively. She'd just about managed to mumble her thanks before a nasty twinge brought her sharply back to reality. As they stood in Bree, the uneasy, uncomfortable feeling only grew worse.

"Right," Thorin called over the company. "I expect you all to meet back here in one hour." With that, he turned sharply to follow in Gandalf's path to the inn, passing the lead of his pony to Fili. This seemed permission to wander freely, and the company abruptly started going their different directions. Kili and Fili disappeared off to stable the ponies, and Nori, Dori and Ori went off in search of a bookshop by the sounds of it. Balin left to have a word with his brother, and Bofur and Bombur strolled away with an explanation of rounding out the supplies, leaving Bifur with her and Bilbo.

"Come on," Bilbo said after a while. "Let's get you to this shop."

Bifur said something in Khadzul (which Senga assumed had something to do with 'onwards' by the way he was gesturing) and the three of them set off down the main street.

It was true to say that Senga didn't enjoy shopping. _At all._ There were certain things built into the female anatomy and wiring that meant she was at least _curious _about shopping, but the act itself was a chore. Not least because she was rigidly set in what she would and wouldn't wear for a _number _of reasons. Staring with her opinions on her own aesthetics, and ending with the scars. Added to that was the fact that she found 'fashion' boring and the concept of clothes she couldn't work in frankly pointless.

There _was _beauty to be found in dressing up as a china shepherdess, but she would never meet it in any case, so the subject was ultimately mute. Not (making it the bane of her life) to her own, dear Natasha, but even she was stumped in the face of Senga's refusal to co-operate.

The only time she actively did more than loathe the experience was when she was with her Great Aunt and Uncle who would by sturdy fabrics, fresh leather and scrap metal. Useful things. Still…the prospect of shopping with a dwarf warrior and a Baggins wasn't one she'd _really _considered before it happened.

"You kno', Bilbo?" Senga said tentatively. The hobbit grunted his attention, examining the buildings as they past. "I don' exactly have the money to pay for this myself."

"Oh, that's quite alright," Bilbo answered good-naturedly. "As long as it isn't excessive."

"But I can' let you do tha'!"

It was a bugger of a situation, but she wasn't about to just _accept charity. _The thought made her almost nauseous with guilt and indignance, galling her sense of pride. She cast her mind about desperately to find another solution, but none came to mind.

"No, really, it's fine." Bilbo insisted, slightly impatient as he continued his search.

"How can it be fine?" She spluttered. "You barely kno' me!"

"Look!" he said firmly, turning back at last. "We're on a quest hopefully to find a pile of gold. Now, said pile of gold could be used to pay me back once this is all done, yes?"

Senga hissed in frustration before finally bringing herself to accept his offer, reluctantly nodding and signalling for them to continue. Bifur made a (sympathetic?) comment and patted her on the shoulder.

The human inhabitants were staring at the three of them by the time they reached the end of the main avenue. A hobbit wasn't all that unusual, it seemed, and she had seen at least two in the crowd so far, but a well-to-do hobbit from Hobbiton? It was unheard of. Next was Bifur: a sight to behold at first glance with his thicket of wild grey hair and dense beard. Not to mention the sliver of orc axe that glinted in the sunlight, or the way he flanked them still carrying his weapon. Senga wondered whether someone had managed to tell him 'don't lose them' without their noticing, so serious was he in his apparent task of protecting them.

Then there were the stares at Senga herself. She was aware that she must look a right fright with her sun-dried hair in tangles, her clothes still grubby and her apparent lack of _womanly dignity. _Still, she didn't think she deserved looks quite like _that. _They seemed frightened. More frightened than they were of the wild-looking Bifur. She caught 'strange' and 'fey' from the crowd's mutterings, and realised they thought she must be a child from the wilds, raised by faeries and a dog pack.

The smirk hitched itself up her lips until it was a leer she couldn't help inflict on the nosey passers-by. _Child of the wilds. _Despite herself, she found she liked the thought of that.

At length, they found the shop, tucked away round the corner of the last building on the left. It was a seamstress' – a Missus Blance. They almost overlooked it but for Bifur's shout, and even then the small russet-brown door wasn't much to look at. Senga glanced dubiously at the sign in faded gold over the lintel, before knocking loudly. A shuffling started from within the secluded shop, preceding the appearance of a middle-aged woman in a neat dress the colour of the door.

"Can I help you? Or is that, err, too obvious a question for my trade?"

Senga scowled as the woman looked her up and down with an almost pained expression.

"I am in need of clothing, yes." She answered through gritted teeth. "Or would you rather jus' insul' wha' I've got on at the moment?"

"_Aha_, what she _means_ to say is that we'd like to have a look at your wares please, if you wouldn't mind." Bilbo said quickly, sidestepping the bristling Senga with an apologetic look.

"No not at all!" The woman seemed completely un-phased. "Oh, and I didn't mean insult!" She continued as she ushered all of them into a large and surprisingly well-lit room. "I merely meant that I could do so more to off-set a pretty face than…those." She gestured vaguely at the shirt and trousers.

"Well, I'm no' here to 'off-set my face'," Senga said exasperatedly. "I need things to travel in."

"Oh, and I was so looking forward to seeing you in skirts." She sighed dramatically, looking around the well-stocked shelves and pulling down garments seemingly at random. "It would have been soft wool – with cotton embellishments. And green. A soft green – with a hint of blue. Or darker, perhaps? But if it were darker it would have been blue not green."

"Um…" Bilbo looked a bit lost. Suddenly Senga found the clothes thrust into her arms.

"There!" the woman – Blance, obviously – smiled proudly at the small pile. "A selection of styles, fabrics and sizes. I'm afraid that's all I have prepared, though if you were staying for longer I could make up something more…" she sighed regretfully. "…womanly."

"How do you know we're not staying?" Bilbo asked suddenly, ignoring Senga's raised eyebrow.

"Oh, we get travellers all the time here in Bree; one learns to recognise the type. Though there are few women who choose such roads and fewer who chose to travel with companions. Particularly men."

Senga gave her a closed look and nodded shortly before disappearing into the back room. Bifur was eyeing the woman warily as she passed, but apparently he didn't find the threat he watched for and quickly went back to curiously examining the shop's contents. The back room itself had a long mirror on one wall and a small bench along the other, gently supplying the illusion that the room was bigger than it was.

_How times change, _thought Senga dryly as she began sorting through the large number of items Blance had given her. They were mostly men's styles (obviously) yet there were some that had clearly been modified to a more _feminine _shape. This was strange by itself considering that even Blance herself disapproved of women dressing up in such wares, but there they were. The breeches she'd been given were also closer to her leg-length than most of the clothes she could buy back home.

Senga raised her eyebrows as she realised that Blance catered for dwarves – dwarvish travellers – as well as the rest of those populating the 'comings and goings' demographic. Gandalf had certainly directed them to the right place.

Making a start, she sifted through the shirts, leggings, trousers and under-shifts to find something suitable. It took much longer than she expected and for once, Senga found herself nearly enjoying perusing the styles and the feel. Some she dismissed outright either because of size or the way it revealed her arms or chest (yes, Blance had feminised some _quite a lot_) but others she found herself _dithering _over. After a considerable interval – and after checking her swollen shoulder in the mirror with a curse – she exited with the final choices.

"Ah, yes." Blance took the long-sleeved design with the leather weaved in to adjust the neck and eyed it keenly. "Very practical. You have my guarantee that the material will stand up to almost anything except a knife. Not soft, but I had not raised my hopes too high. Any preference for colour?"

"Um…" _Go on, _said a little voice in her head. "Dark blue."

"Excellent. Anything else?"

"Some of those woollen nickers." She said, fully aware of the two men intently examining the walls behind her. "And five of these." She held up the plain cotton undershirt. Blance smiled at her with some amusement as she retrieved the order, the woman seemingly liking Senga's blunt way of approach.

"None of the trousers, my dear?"

"No." Senga tried to keep the regret from her voice, but her uncertainty in the situation made it impossible. Blance raised an eyebrow.

"Did you find none to your liking?"

"I like the pair I have on."

Blance tutted her tongue as she eyed the mud-stained garment, seemingly more aware than Senga that they were not a pair particularly suited to long-term travelling. She'd put them on for the LARP because they were more flexible and less heavy than her forging trousers which were riddled, in any case, with stiff patches and flakes of metal. These were just old, non-descript trousers, nothing special. Certainly nothing to suggest they'd survive more than a month of hard ware. _But, _she wouldn't by new ones with _someone else's money._

"My dear…" Blance seemed to be looking for the right words when the boys clicked to her hesitation. Bifur gave a noise between a snort and an exasperated groan, whilst Bilbo strode up to her, eyes hard.

"If you think you'll need a pair, then for goodness sake's buy them! I _don't mind._"

"Fine!"

Annoyed beyond belief at the whole situation, Senga turned and strode back to the discard pile. She returned with a pair of jet-black leather pants and deposited them on the counter. It might have been her imagination, but Blance's approval of her seemed to up a notch at this addition, though she didn't say a word beyond "Would you not like to wear them now?"

Senga's face felt like it was being welded. She dreaded to think of the expression she must have sported, but she disappeared as suggested into the back room to change. On the inside was brushed wool, soft to the touch as she slipped it over her legs. The leather itself had been treated so that it was flexible, yet still tough, and the whole thing fit like a glove. It was as if they have been made for her. They came up to her waist – her proper waist, not her hips – and she casually tucked her own red shirt into them. Her belt and short sword were transferred and suddenly she found herself looking at the mirror, almost _admiring _her appearance.

She scowled as she did the laces of her boots.

"Anything else?"

Senga blushed at the impressed look on all three faces as she returned. Still scowling, she considered the question and decided to run with it.

"I need a coat."

Blance beamed.

"Wait here. I have just the thing."

They were not left long before the woman returned with a dwarf-sized, ankle-length overcoat made of the same leather as the trousers.

"I had been saving this for a special occasion, but it seems fate has decided to knock."

Senga obeyed wordlessly as Blance slipped the coat around her shoulders, moving around her to pull the front into place. It fitted wonderfully, loose and firm all at once with just the right amount of room for the addition of her corselet. She'd had to bite the wince that emanated from her left shoulder, but it didn't dampen the fact she was rather pleased with the result.

"My, my. They say beauty comes in many forms, but I had not expected this." Blance ran her fingers delicately over the leather arms. "I still think you would do better in a skirt and a bodice," she chided suddenly. "But I will concede this for now."

"Thank you." Senga nodded awkwardly and then turned inevitably to Bilbo.

"Oh, I'm sure Mister Baggins and I can arrange a fair deal." Blance said lightly, following her gaze. "You run along now. Now you are suitable, you have young men to impress!" She added as Senga bowed herself out. The comment made her roll her eyes to the sky, but for once even she had to admit she looked good. The coat was not plain as the trousers were: there were designs over the collar and flowing lines tracing where it fitted into her waist before flaring slightly. It was simple and unassuming in some ways, but quite elegant in others. It didn't billow as she half-expected it to; it moved with her, following her legs without entangling them.

She could've run in it and it would've barely slowed her down. The wool on the inside made it warm, and she noticed the intricate collar could be turned up against the wind. The leather on the outside would do its job with the wind and weather, and the long arms of it would protect her forearms more thoroughly than the chainmail.

All in all, it was the best fucking coat she'd ever worn.

About half-way back to where they'd parted, she noticed the same designs on the elbows and on the cuffs. They were geometric – very dwarvish – yet very subtle. To see them properly, the sun had to hit them in just the right way, or you would have to look very closely. It was the illusion of either simplicity or extravagance, depending on the light's angle, and it occurred to Senga that Blace had taken a long time and great care to produce the coat that was now hers.

She felt unworthy wearing it all of a sudden, but there was nothing to be done now. She didn't interrupt her confident stride and eventually came to the end of the road. There was no one there yet, being it still shy of an hour, so she wondered off in search of the pub.

* * *

"Oh, I saw a few who couldn't take their eyes off you." Fili said with a grin as they camped in a sheltered glade, hours later. Senga aimed the dog-end of a piece of bread at him over the fire, and surprisingly so did Kili. Fili's splutter as both pieces hit him in the face raised a chortle from the rest of the group spread around the glade.

"Well if anyone deserved such attention today, it was not misdirected." Dori said appreciatively.

"Oh, fuck off." Senga muttered, digging determinably back into the dregs of the stew. They had all admired her new 'look', Gloin even going so far as to say that she "_looks less like a stray pup_", but Senga had never been one to like attention. She found it unnerving, though part of her was pleased it was because they were beginning to accept her presence. The fact that they were smiling at her made her relax just a little, and reflect with relief that the mood of the second night couldn't have been more different to the first. Dwalin had even commented on the coat, albeit haltingly, and had then pointedly ignored her.

After the shock had worn off, she wondered absently what the _hell _Balin had managed to say to him. And then the feeling of discomfort had returned, worse than ever, forcing her to spend much of the evening rolling over in her head what it could possibly be.

"Now, now lass," Bofur adopted a mock-stern tone. "There's no need to get defensive. It's plain as day obvious that you yourself like that fine overcoat, and I'll not hear you deny any who say you suit it."

Senga rolled her eyes, reaching to poke one of the logs back into the fire. Without warning, the pain in her wrenched shoulder pitched, causing her to hiss involuntarily as she withdrew her hand.

"What's wrong, lass?" Bofur's smile dropped instantly.

"Nothing," Senga tried to cover her discomfort with a stretch, but Nori, sitting next to her, caught her left elbow. She made no further sound, not even wincing properly, but the fact that her body tensed was missed by no one. Nori let go so as not to cause her more pain, but gave her a pinning stare as she tucked her left arm back against her body.

"I'm fine." She growled, glaring into the fire. "It's nothin' to worry about."

"At least let us see it." Kili insisted, worry all over his face. Senga wondered briefly whether Kili had any emotion that didn't immediately show there.

"Wha'? And that'll make _you_ feel better?" she challenged hotly. Kili looked abashed, but didn't drop his eyes.

"Wouldn't you rather it not hurt?"

"I'm _fine._"

"Well, clearly, you are not." Fili said gently. Senga scowled at him and Kili before standing suddenly and striding away, ignoring the shouts of them, Nori, Dori and Bofur that followed her. She saw Balin near a tree as she passed, but refused to meet his eyes and continued out of the light and into the wood.

Cool darkness enveloped her, broken by the closeness of the leaves. She didn't stray too far, but far enough that she was difficult to spot in the gloom. She wandered for a little while before stopping and sitting on the roots of a large oak. Briefly, she shut her eyes and let the emotions burn through her, swallowing her in their passing.

What was troubling her…she'd worked out what it was.

* * *

"There she goes."

"She's injured, Dwalin. She's been covering up, the poor lass."

"She does not trust us."

"And I wonder why that is. You've not exactly been civil to her so far."

"Spare me, Bofur."

"Balin said to you the same thing, did he? Well it's true enough."

"She needs to let someone help her!"

"Aye lad, that she does, but persuading _her_ of that's easier said than done."

"Kili's right, we can't just leave her injured."

Nori joined the conversation as Balin came and approached the fire.

"I will speak to her." He said at last.

"Aye, and I will go with you." Bofur nodded. Kili and Fili made to stand, but Balin waved them down.

"No, lads, I would be best if we went alone."

Kili looked as if he were going to protest, but Fili kept hold of his arm and forced him to sit back down. Balin's gaze lingered on them for a moment before he departed with Bofur. Fili he wasn't so concerned with: the lad had a good heart and he had taken an interest in caring for Senga. Kili though…he had only first laid eyes on her two days ago, yet he was fast becoming enraptured with the taciturn young woman. She fascinated him – that much was obvious. They'd all noticed.

As they exited the camp together, he and Bofur exchanged a look that told Balin they'd just been thinking the same thing. He heaved a sigh. Not that it would have been so bad – such a union – though he knew some who would _definitely _disapprove. However, watching them together, Balin got the distinct impression that Senga's interest in Kili and Kili's interest in Senga were two different things entirely. _He_ wanted to win her affections, or at least bed her (as all young dwarves were wont to think about) yet Balin had seen no sign that Senga would welcome such courting.

Not that Kili had done any. He was still scared half to death of the idea, content to pine away until the mountains fell down.

As to what Senga wanted, he was yet unsure. She was close to Kili, even after such a short time, and there were moments here and there when she seemed almost surprised at their companionship.

Balin shook his head of the headache that begun whenever he tried to understand the wayward lassie. He had the feeling that if he did, then he would understand all women, as well as the meaning of life the universe and everything.

Suddenly he stopped, halting Bofur in his tracks.

Bofur stared at him wide eyed. The sounds of low voices drifted back through the trees, carried on the still air ahead. They were less stealthy than Balin would've liked, but the darkness covered them without betrayal as the pair moved towards the source. It was so dark outside the firelight and under the shade that they nearly missed the pair of dark figures sat near an old oak.

They goggled at them.

One of the voices was definitely Senga's, and what's more it was calm and composed. Guarded, maybe, but she was within reason and this alone was astonishing considering the other figure had broken her solitude. For one long moment, Balin thought that Kili had ignored his bid to stay behind and found her first. But…no. Kili was slighter than most dwarves – very much slighter than her current companion – and when they talked, Senga laughed and joked. The transition she had between laughing with Kili and screaming at the world was actually astonishing when Balin considered it. Yet neither were present in the Senga they could just see through the dark. She was…unreadable.

_Who? _He thought, glancing at Bofur. _Surely –_

Then the other spoke, and dispelled all doubt.

It was Thorin.

* * *

_**A.N: this was such a bugger to write. The first bit I knocked off in a couple of hours, but the middle bit took way longer. I was trying not to make it boring since it was essentially a shopping trip (oh Jesus) but I really wanted to address costume for Senga.**_

_**Hopefully with this chapter I'v managed to accomplish two things: firstly that the dwarves are getting more used to Senga, and Senga used to them. Just a bit of relationship progression on the basis that the dwarves respond well to her bold brashness. And secondly an initial element of sexual tension. Just a hint at this point - enough to scratch on a scratching post for later.**_

_**Oh, and Kili. Yeah, i hadn't planned that to be honest, but I realised it was the natural progression from his point of view. Ah, I thought it might be an interesting thing to explore...**_

_**Drop us a line, lovelies, review! **_


	6. Not All Those Who Are Lost Wander

_**Chapter Five**_

**Not All Those Who Are Lost Wander**

"You would not be wise to wander further."

"Righ'." Senga stopped abruptly, a bitter taste coating her tongue. "Las' time I did that, I ended up here."

She hadn't seen Thorin as she passed out of the camp, although she'd known he must have been nearby. She hadn't seen much of him since they'd left Bree – not that the second day was different to the first, in that respect. She swore under her breath when she realised she'd walked right past him in the dark.

"You regret this?"

There was no emotion to the question. She considered throwing it back in his face, the arrogant git, but she hadn't the heart as she thought of the others. Guilt rose unexpectedly as she thought of the way she'd left them; not something that happened often. Often she could only think that whoever had been on the receiving end of her anger had deserved it. Not this time though. It was probably for the best – her removing herself from their midst – but they hadn't deserved her flying off the handle.

Her shoulder throbbed painfully.

"You will not speak?"

She could just see him through the murk of the night and refused to look. The hard wood of the oak tree pressed to her back, and for just a second she considered purposefully ramming her bad shoulder against it. She tensed, her whole body readied, before catching herself sharply. Her jaws pressed together. A wave of savage depression washed over her before she slowly let herself relax, shifting to a better position. Forgetting Thorin entirely, she gave a low moan of pain.

Her eyes snapped open – she didn't realise she'd shut them – as she heard the rustling footsteps approach her. Furious, but still blind, she backed into the tree and glared at the dark shadow. If she squinted, she could just see his eyes. What _right _did he have to approach her? She had sought solitude, _goddamn it_, and fucked if she was letting the arrogant prick deprive her of that mercy.

Unfortunately, the pain in her arm was getting steadily worse, draining all her energy as she forced her body to remain neutral. And she was _tired_. Scant sleep and a day of trials had robbed her of the will to fight, so she glowered and did nothing. There was nothing left to do. Thorin stopped short of her and dropped slowly to a seat before the great roots, features more visible now through the shadow. Senga wondered what was going through his head, and hated him when she realised his stance could only mean pity.

_Pity._

"Why did you conceal your injury?" he asked finally. But it was not the soft tone of sympathy, or even Thorin's characteristic impatience. It was cool and commanding; a tone that required answers, though did not demand them per say. Senga was taken aback.

"It's no' something for you to be concerned with." She said curtly. Through the dark she saw his eyebrows draw hard together.

"It _is_ my concern if one of my company suffers without need." He answered in a low, but dangerous voice. "Now you will _desist_."

Senga locked gazes with him, fire flaring for a moment. But against the unwavering storm in Thorin's eyes, she couldn't hold out long and looked away.

"I will ask you again why you concealed it." He said evenly.

"It is my privacy."

She looked hard at the ground, aware of Thorin's burning scrutiny whisking away the lack of light. She expected him to respond immediately, but he said nothing. He remained there motionless for several long moments before rocking back with an almost inaudible sigh. When Senga glanced back at him, he was staring away from her into the trees. For long minutes they sat in silence, Senga slowly coming to realise that Thorin was…respecting her request.

He, a hardened warrior prince who'd shown her nothing but contempt and suspicion, was offering not condescension, or worry, or _pity, _but…understanding.

No words were spoken, nor concession or explanation offered. It simply was, hanging between them in the quiet night. Senga felt rather than saw him move closer so that he was in the lee of one of the roots to her right. And there they sat for what felt like an age beneath the shadowy crown of the oak tree.

Minutes might have been hours, or hours minutes, but at long last Thorin spoke.

"May I see to it?"

Senga looked at him expressionlessly. His voice had been quieter and more gentle than she'd yet heard it, but somehow it seemed more like his own than an order. It was also an offer, not a demand. Without understanding why this moved her to concede, Senga nodded through the darkness.

"Then be still." Thorin rose to move behind her as she turned her back to him and gingerly removed her coat. "Where are you hurt?"

"The back of my left shoulder."

"Have you tended it yourself?"

"In a manner of speaking. Immersin' it helped, but nothin' since this morning."

Thorin didn't voice his question. It wouldn't have been hard to guess, though, and the weight of their fight hung between them. With him behind her, she knew not what expression came to him at the thought of treating his own work. Perhaps he wore none at all. Suddenly, she felt his hands through her shirt and her whole body tensed. Her brain ignored the sudden spike in pain and coiled like a spring, folding in on itself so that all thought was replaced with a silvery panic. Her breath caught, and she struggled with all her might to stay calm; to stay perfectly still. Her heart sped up like a rabbit's, breathing not far behind.

Oh_ fuck._

The hands were gone instantly, and there was more movement around her as Thorin came round to her front. Her blown pupils caught the alarm in his face, the confusion, but somehow _seeing _him – reminding herself that there was no-one else there – slowed her centrifuging thoughts.

"Senga?"

_It's okay, it's okay, it's okay…_

"Miss Senga?"

The mantra slowed gradually as the panic faded, leaving her out of breath and still tense as a wire. Thorin watched her like she was a spooked horse.

"Fuck." She breathed quietly, forcing her body to relax. When Thorin continued to say nothing, she let out a long, slow breath, and drew herself out of her unconscious coil.

"I'm sorry. It's been a while since tha's happened."

"What happened to you?" Her wide eyes locked to his, and when she said nothing he continued, voice edged with wariness. "I happen to recognise a panic attack when I see one."

"Then you should kno' you don' just _ask._"

Her voice was so low it was almost inaudible, but it nonetheless came out like a snake, venom and all. They stared at each other for a long moment before Thorin looked away, confusion and schooled caution still ruling his face. To Senga's surprise, he paused before relenting.

"Very well." He rocked back from where he'd been poised on his haunches. "Do you still wish my assistance?"

"Why are you _offering _it?" she said all of a sudden. The question ripped from her with spite, mirroring her sudden wish that he'd _go away. _Why would he want to help her?

"Because," he said carefully and deliberately. "As much as I object to it, you are under my leadership and it is my duty to ensure you function properly as a member of this company. Furthermore, it is a courtesy I offer in penance for my lack of honourable conduct this morning."

His face was calm, but she fancied she could see the slight wince as he admitted his dishonour. Senga raised an eyebrow, eyes hard.

"So this is to make you feel better?" she said shortly, repeating her words to Kili.

"No, this is fulfilling a moral obligation," Thorin said abrasively, meeting her stare with one of his own. "Regardless of my feelings on the subject. Should you refuse, I will leave, now will you allow me to examine your shoulder or not?"

Biting back the vindictive urge to refuse off-hand, Senga whirled round where she sat and plonked back down with a growl. She was so irritated with the ignoble bastard, but once deciding she was going to let him help in the first place, she knew she'd rather just get it over and done with. As soon as she'd turned her back, however, the anxiety returned with a fury and she had to fight a shudder. Thorin moved up behind her, and she felt the anger turn to hatred as she trembled.

_She wanted to go home. _No…she would've wanted to go home if she had a home, but she didn't, so she just wanted to _go. _She was a failed wretch of a human, never mind being put among venerable dwarves, and they didn't _deserve her. _They should've figured that out by now – people usually did. She'd never managed beyond two days. That was the limit. The expiry date. That this lot had failed to see that only re-enforced the fact she was forcing her fucked-up self on their lives. _They didn't deserve her. _

Whether she hated him or herself, she no longer knew, and braced herself for the rough hands of an irate dwarf prince.

Only…they never came. Thorin's hands were feather light and so hesitant she did shiver. She didn't make a sound, or movement, but her body readily betrayed her as it shook. His fingertips grazed her swollen shoulder and she tensed at the sensation.

"Senga…" his voice was alien with uncertainty. "I would have you tell me if..."

"Jus' get on with it."

His breath came unevenly across her hair, but his hands firmed onto her flesh. Stones spiked heavily through the muscles, but she swallowed the pain and stayed very still as his thumbs traced the damage.

"It is twisted, but not badly." His hands left her shoulder to slide down towards her lumbar. For a moment, Senga wondered what he was doing, but then she felt a tug at the hem of the material and stiffened completely. For a _very _tense few minutes, his hands remained there, the material vibrating ever so slightly with her tremors. Finally Thorin laid a hand on her good shoulder and held her steady, silently asking the permission he couldn't voice.

For a split second, the panic flared, but then it receded just as quickly and for the life of her Senga couldn't figure out why. His hand was warm, and beneath it her skin felt tranquil; still. Logically it should have made matters worse, and yet it was like the feeling you have when you've sought solitude only to have someone remind you that wasn't what you wanted at all.

Wordlessly, she let the feeling spread across her back and slowly relaxed into his touch, nodding into the dark. The hand on her shoulder stayed there as the hem was lifted, allowing the hand on her back to move beneath the fabric. The little hairs stood on end as she felt the slight breeze hit her bare skin, tingling and invigorating – then his skin touched hers. It was rough and calloused, evidence of decades and more of wielding weapons of many descriptions. There were scars too, many of them like latticework. Most were just indentations – foreign dips in the skin – whilst others were raised clearly off the surface. The most curious things were the burns, something she recognised only because they were the kinds she bore herself. You didn't work a forge without burning your fingers every so often, though most that scarred were invisible unless you touched them. She had a deep one that others could see, right on her knuckle, but as Thorin moved his hand carefully up her spine she absently catalogued the marks littering his skin.

The sprain gave a throb as he found it, but she managed not to tense.

"This will hurt a little." He murmured, voice much lower than she'd expected. She raised her eyebrows and looked over her shoulder. Thorin's answering expression was carefully closed, but there was a definite nervousness to him that he couldn't quite hide. The thought unnerved her as she tried to wrap her mind around _Thorin _being _nervous_, though she supposed she hadn't known him all that long. Her head snapped forward again, however, as he hooked his thumb directly beneath her muscles and pulled back with his fingers.

A gasp escaped her and she screwed her eyes shut for a second. Thorin's grip increased to steady her as he coaxed the pulled fibres back into place, kneading and pulling in practiced alternation. At first it hurt like hell, but as she got used to it the pain lessened to a manageable ache. At length, she turned back to where Thorin was concentrating intently on his work.

"Do you smith of'en?"

He paused for a moment, brow furrowed at the question, before continuing.

"Not in recent years." Thorin answered without looking at her. "Not for trade, anyway."

"But you do for yourself?"

He nodded shortly, still concentrating on her back through the gloom. She fought a wince as he hit a particularly stiff patch.

"Your armour," he said abruptly.

"Wha' about it?"

"It is…simple, unrefined. It speaks plainly of inexperience, but the rings are…well made. Well crafted." He managed stiffly. Senga's eyebrows were in danger of disappearing into her hairline.

"Thank you." She said uncertainly. Then, "How can you tell I made it?"

"It's precisely your size." He answered simply.

They sat in silence for a further few minutes while his hand gradually slowed. The rustling of nightly noises floated around the oak tree when he became totally still. Her shoulder throbbed a bit, but otherwise felt better, yet still he didn't remove his hand. He traced it slowly back down, fingertips finding a pattern like a jagged, branching river wending over her left side, and then her right so that it grazed the peaks of her spine in between.

"Don'." She whispered. His hand stopped instantly, fingers flattening to rest his palm flush down. She had to think it was her imagination, but she could almost feel a tremor.

"Scars…are nothing to be ashamed of." He said, and she didn't imagine the hoarseness that laced his low words.

"I'm no' ashamed." She muttered, jerking away from his touch for the first time. "I jus' _hate_ them."

She heard him release a long breath as he took his hand back, looking away from her before standing.

"Fair enough."

He extended a hand to help her up. She frowned at it.

"Why?" She breathed, almost soundlessly. "I almos' attacked you!" she said more loudly. "Would 'a done if you hadn' stopped it, an' yet here I am still! Fucked if I can figure tha' one out, really, 'cos people 'ave decided I'm worth _leaving alone_ for _less_."

She stood on her own with a mirthless grimace and gathered up her coat, clutching unconsciously at the locket round her neck.

"Do you wish to be alone?" He challenged suddenly. Senga gaped at him.

"Well…no, 'course not, but –"

"Then I would suggest you stop presuming the judgement of others before it is passed."

"How can you say tha' when it was _you _I fuckin' well _lost it_ in front of?"

"You think I should abandon you for this offence?"

The words caught harshly in her throat as she tried to meet his sudden emotionlessness. She looked away, hollow self-loathing burning her insides away. Before she could stop herself, she had clenched her arms over her chest and spat "You would be wise to."

"And why is that?"

"Because…because I don' _do _people!" she hissed harshly, struggling to find the words. "I'm no' this fuckin' un-whetted warrior Gandalf and Balin seem to think – I'm jus' _me. _A fucked-up, ex-drunk-druggy LARPer. Granted, I've spen' the last four years tryin' to be a better human being, but that doesn' change wha' _I am._ Wha' I've _done_." She said the last bit in a bitter mutter as she thumped back to the ground.

"Wha' confuses me the most is tha' Balin knows, yet he hasn' said a word abou' it. He's good to me," she said suddenly, voice cracking. "And your boys. Most people run a mile if I scream bloody murder, but still I can' get them to shut up."

"Aye, well, you can hardly call Fili and Kili 'most people'."

Senga jumped nearly a foot, scrambling to her feet as Bofur and Balin appeared out of the shadows.

"How long have you stood there?"

It was difficult to tell in the dark now that they'd moved away from each other, but to Senga it looked as if Thorin had gone rigid.

"Oh, no' too long laddie." Balin said airily. "We actually came looking for our wayward lass."

Thorin looked as if he was going to say something else, but Bofur hurried between them, too intent on Senga to worry about other questions.

"Oh, lass, did you really think we'd give up on you after two days just because you've got a temper?" the dwarf's face etched with lines of remorse. "You've quite clearly never seen Dwalin without his dinner, and that's a fact. Ah, now _there's _a sight to behold."

Senga chanced a look square into his face and broke at the lopsided amusement Bofur seemed to carry everywhere he went. With a choked snort, she stared back at the floor.

"Hey, lass," he reached surprisingly nimble fingers beneath her chin. "We wouldn't leave you behind like some sort of stray orc just for that."

"An' as for your past, it's what you are _now _that's important." Balin came into her line of vision as he went to sit next to her. "Everyone has a story, Senga. Remember tha'."

"Aye, and one day if we're lucky, you can tell us yours." Bofur continued cheerily.

"I don' jus' tell my life story to anyone who asks." Senga retorted dourly, face hard. Bofur's smile dropped, but he nodded gently.

"Aye. I understand. When you're ready."

He stood and stepped carefully away to where Thorin still stood, face once again the stone mask.

"Well, we'd best get back. Before everyone else turns up." Balin added drolly. He made to stand, but paused when Senga spoke.

"What am I now, Balin?"

"We'll just have to find out, lass." He replied, a smile tugging the corners of his mouth as he offered his hand. She stared at the wrinkled old hand, scarred and worn, yet soft as any grandfather's, before taking it. She still didn't get what the bollocking hell she'd done to deserve it, but for now she wasn't going to question it. After all, she reasoned, she'd accepted being whisked off the face of the earth and into a world she'd thought only existed in a book written more than half a century before she was born. Balin caring for her enough to give her a chance where no others had wasn't _so _much more far-fetched, was it?

She glanced at Thorin as she retreated from the great oak. He was staring away into the night, apparently deep in thought. Next to him and waiting for her, Bofur smiled widely and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. She noted vaguely that it was her _good_ shoulder, but by the time she'd reached him the weariness had hit and she found herself too tired to care. Instead, she turned to Thorin.

"Thanks."

"I had heard you fear neither death nor pain." He said suddenly, making her jump as she was about to walk away. "For future reference, what was it that made you so afeared?"

Senga stared at him for a long moment, face as unreadable as his. The truth was she _had _thought she'd trained herself out of that reaction. Such episodes of panic she'd thought she'd left behind, but in her heart she suspected they'd never leave her entirely.

_A concrete alley. Drunk. On the tail end of a joint smoked behind the bins. The touch of another in the dark. They had no faces. The bottle fractured beneath her back. The glass bit, digging one of the deepest scars of them all._

_And yet, at the time, she'd barely even considered it._

"Tha' I couldn' see you." She said shortly, before turning sharply and striding away.

* * *

"_Laddie…"_

"_I didn't know you knew how to be a masseuse!"_

"_I offered my services to heal her, Bofur, nothing more, and you will kindly not speak such slurs."_

_Bofur closed his maverick mouth in mild surprise. Balin considered Thorin for a long while, before he finally sighed and lowered his eyes._

"_Aye, let us go." _

_He couldn't help staring, though, as Thorin stomped back to camp._

* * *

Senga woke at daybreak the next day to the unmistakable smell of bacon and tomatoes. And…_dare she hope_…mushrooms?

"Fuckin' hell!" she rasped, rolling out of her tangled blanket and stumbling towards the source.

"Ey, look lively lads, our lady's awake!" Bofur cracked a beaming smile as he handed her a smooth wooden bowl. "Thought we'd treat everyone." He added with a wink. Senga gave the fried assortment such a look of ardour that she drew a hearty laugh from the dwarves already assembled, Fili rolling round in his seat as she flopped next to him.

"Should I leave you two alone?"

"Oh, don' you fuckin' knock it Fili, seriously."

A series of sleepy grunts behind them made them turn back to see a staggering Kili moving blindly towards breakfast.

"You cuss a fair bit, you know." He slurred, rubbing his face. Senga was taken aback.

"'s jus' habit. Besides, it's you lot that don' swear enough!"

She took a mouthful of mushrooms and bacon and loosed a long, deep groan from the base of her throat. Kili stopped in his tracks, goggling at her with his hand half-way through his hair. The sight was so comical, she chocked on her next swallow as she started giggling uncontrollably. Fili quite literally fell to the floor, Oin, Gloin, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Nori and Balin laughing riotously at Kili's sudden paralytic state. He jerked himself out of it a moment later, face as red as the blushed tomatoes.

"It's good is it, lass?" Bofur said with a passable attempt at a straight face.

"Oh…oh, Bofur," she intoned sensuously as she savoured the flavours dancing on her tongue. Another round of laughter followed, Gandalf and Bilbo joining them with various bemusement and deep discomfort on their faces. Senga grinned wickedly and tilted back her head to yawn, catching sight of Thorin at the other end of the camp. Her eyes crinkled just slightly as she saw him, wondering (as she had done all night) what precisely had gone through his head when he'd traced the scar on her back. He hadn't made eye contact with her since.

"Ah, don't pay him mind, Senga." Fili said suddenly as he followed her gaze. "Our greatest minds have tried to understand my uncle before now and failed."

Senga rolled her eyes.

"Right." She sighed resignedly, growling a little as she flexed her marginally improved shoulder.

"So," Fili started coyly. "You never did say what happened last night?"

"Shut up you tosser! Who says anything happened las' nigh'?"

"You did come back shortly before he did." Kili pointed out bluntly. Senga drew herself up between them, setting her empty bowl before her on the ground.

"Listen, you pair o' nosey sods, _nothing happened. _We 'ad a little talk, an' tha' was it, _righ'?_"'

She got sharply to her feet before either could reply and marched off to gather her things, dropping the bowl off with Bombur and the hot water. She could feel Fili's sly smirk following her and wondered why she should be feeling so embarrassed when nothing_ did _happen. She wondered a tad at Kili's reactions, but dismissed them easily off-hat. She wasn't the sort of person boys looked at, in any sense of the word. And Kili was a naïve lad, however old she suspected he was as a dwarf. The kind that swooned over Natasha's ridiculous cheek bones and wicked eyes and which she usually found insufferable.

Yet Kili _was_ different. He had a good heart. And he _cared _about things, in at least as far as she could tell. He was bright as a summer morning, as curious as a cat and as stubborn as Thorin. He was also thicker than a sequoia at times, but cleverer than he immediately came across…

She sighed heavily. She wasn't _good _at this – she'd said as much last night. She liked to think of as _hard_ and as having seen _things_, but there were other parts of life to which she was as innocent as a bleeding teen. It made her vulnerable, and she _hated _it – hated it in a childish way that reminded her that she wasn't a gnarled old woman yet.

She paused and tried to think of Thorin, but found to her consternation that it was…difficult. He was their leader. He was an arrogant bastard with delusions of grandeur. He was a dwarf-lord with _actual _grandeur. _He had eyes like the night sky reflected in a pond. _He loved his nephews. He closed himself off. He made _no sense_.

Not that Senga was an authority in making sense of men, but she wasn't usually this stumped. And the fact that Thorin _intrigued _her for no other apparent reason only made things worse.

"Are you…alright Miss Senga?"

She turned around in surprise.

"Fine thanks, Bilbo." She paused and tried to read his awkward fidgeting. "Was there something else you needed?"

"No, no, I just, um, wanted to check whether you were well, that's all. You and me being the outsiders of the company."

Senga stared so long that Bilbo blushed and started to stutter something else.

"Thank you, Bilbo." She said quietly. The hobbit looked back up at her, suddenly still.

"Yes, well," he said, smiling warmly in the gentle morning. "If you ever need anything, or…someone to talk to."

Senga nodded, smiling softly herself as he took his leave.

"Bilbo!" he bobbed back round. "If you ever need the same, jus' say so."

His wide smile reassured her as they made to depart, the warm feeling of a hearty breakfast putting them all in high spirits. Senga travelled with Fili and Kili at her side once more and the day passed in a swirl of laughter and animated conversation.

* * *

The lands they travelled were as if they had come alive from the stories west of the Misty Mountains; as she had always pictured them. But that did not stop them being awesomely beautiful.

The days slipped by as they passed among crag and wood, the road guiding them some of the way, although they cut it in many places as Gandalf lead them. Summer bloomed slowly about them, the wildlife of northern Eriador accompanying them where they trod. The day after they'd left Bree, Senga hacked herself a branch of willow from a thick tree overlooking a stream. She'd brought it back to camp, borrowed a whittling knife from Bofur, and began shaping it into a fine splint so that by the time they'd encountered a herd of wild fallow deer, she managed to bullseye one at one hundred paces with one of Kili's arrows.

_That _got Dwalin's attention.

After the incident – and Bombur's quite excellent venison stew – Kili started spending hours at a time with her helping her to fletch and head her own arrows. It wasn't something she was unfamiliar with, just something she'd never done with improvised equipment in the wilds. Between them they worked quickly, and spent one memorable evening simply enjoying each other's company. They were separated from the rest by a bit, and Senga enjoyed listening to him talk about his home in Ered Luin; about his family, about archery techniques. She told him how _good _it felt to have a bow once more, rough as it was. It was full of splinters and stringing it with hair from the ponies had been a nightmare.

Kili had simply taken the bow in his hands and knocked it back, focussing on a spot far distant. Then he quietly admitted that, though it shamed him, the weapon made famous by the elves was his pride and joy. He felt joy from the sword, too, but nothing like the clarity he felt when he flexed the wood in his hands.

"He's quite taken with you, you know." Fili confided one morning. "He's too much of an idiot to admit it, but he is."

"Taken with as in interested?" Senga confirmed, eyebrow singularly raised.

Fili paused, looking at her critically.

"You're not, are you?" he said simply. "Balin didn't think so either. You have to tell him." He added quietly, a note of warning in his usually cocky voice.

"I don' want to hur' your brother."

She'd never said a truer thing in her life, yet she didn't want to stop spending time with him. It was one of the few things that made the journey bearable sometimes. Oh, the dwarves laughed with her, they _tolerated_ her, but it was only the brothers, Ori, Bofur and Balin that willingly gave her the time of day. The rest swung between suspicion and disinterest, the only consolation being that Bilbo wasn't faring much better. The hobbit didn't trust her altogether either, but he was kind. In a way that reminded her of the quiet grace of her Great Uncle; sitting with her by the fire, offering assistance when she took the odd-jobs. But most of all he offered companionable silence.

Between Kili and Bilbo, she could find a break against the glares of Dwalin and Thorin (when they looked her way at all) and the uncannily searching looks of Nori when he thought she was looking the other way. No, she didn't want to hurt Kili. But neither did she know how to handle the situation, or to express her own feelings on the matter. They had been on the road a little more than two weeks and she'd never before been able to strike a bond with anyone as she had Kili. They all either freaked out or gave up, but not Kili. He stuck by her, and it was only slowly she'd begun to catch the lingering looks since the rest of the time he was so comfortable with her.

To the girl who was so alone…it was everything. Yet not what Kili thought it was, or wanted it to be, at least according to Fili.

_Oh…_bollocks.

* * *

They set up camp on the edge of a cliff, the forest and a number of rock formations forming a border at their backs. It was quite a sheltered spot if you forwent the sheer drop and open air on one side, but with summer in full swing the breeze was gentle and balmy. The ponies were picketed a short way away. The sky was a gentle roll of white and grey.

Yet Senga found it impossible to enjoy it. The entire time of helping the brothers to tend to their mounts, she was privately wracking her brains for a way to start The Conversation. The one she desperately didn't want to have, not least because she would have to _talk about her feelings _– the very thought of which made her gag. She didn't _know _her feelings and _definitely _didn't want to bandy speculation around, not even to Kili.

And yet, he needed to know.

She stomped to the fireside and chewed down dinner, scowling deeply.

"Not to your taste today, lass?"

"No, Bofur, your brother's cookin's as lovely as ever." Senga sighed heavily.

"Then there's something bothering you, lass?"

"No."

She shoved another portion into her mouth and stared pointedly away over the cliff. The dwarf shrugged, shaking his head slightly but not pressing the matter. Senga continued to stare at nothing, face blank, trying to consider what to do. Unbidden, her eyes slid to where Thorin sat with his pipe, idly doing the same. His form was relaxed, but she knew well enough it could coil and spring at a moment's notice. His storm-grey eyes shone softly in the low light of the fire, framed by long, dark falls of hair that were almost black in the twilight.

Without warning, he looked suddenly away from the cliff and back at her. Their eyes connected from across the camp, his widening slightly where he sat. Senga had no idea how long she held that look – only that she was jerking her eyes back to the fire within seconds, heart faster than usual.

_Okay,_ she thought, real annoyance settling in now, _what the FUCK was that about?_

Thorin had barely looked at her since the incident with her shoulder. In fact he hadn't said a single thing to her in two weeks, acknowledging her existence only when strictly necessary. It was infuriating sometimes, being treated as if she'd morphed into a hybrid with her pony, although gradually she'd gotten used to it. What she hadn't gotten used to was the constant _puzzle _he presented. She'd thought Gandalf took the cake for being enigmatic, but Thorin was like a walking iceberg. Never relenting, never dropping his guard except in those rare moments that proved he actually felt something beneath that stone face he wore.

Balin had said everyone had a story…

"Senga?"

She looked up as Fili and Kili came to sit with their backs to the rock, Kili looking at her with some concern.

"Wha'?" She schooled her face into one of utter emotionlessness and stared him down.

"Oh, I…nothing, just…" he looked away, embarrassed. Senga shut her eyes briefly and relented with a small chuckle. Sighing, she crossed the circle of the fire to sit beside the young dwarf, poking him to make him budge up. He grinned instantly and put an arm around her shoulders, settling them comfortably. Fili shot her a look, but she missed it entirely as she stretched her legs out.

"Better?" Kili smirked as she loosed a yawn.

"Yeah, tha's jus' righ'." She muttered, leaning her head into his shoulder. She heard the soft feet of Bilbo and the snuffling snores of Bombur somewhere beyond her eyelids, but they didn't interrupt for now. The warm rise and fall beneath her ear as Kili breathed and her arm around her made her feel…almost…as if she were –

A low, warbling screech rose from the cliff, amplified in the clear night.

"What was that?"

"Orcs."

Senga's eyes snapped open. Her body tensed, and she rose from Kili's arm to stand freely by the rocks just as Bilbo sat down. Another warble sounded, closer this time, though still blessedly far off. Bilbo still looked confused.

"Throat cutters." Fili supplied lightly. "There'll be dozens of them out there. The lowlands are crawling with them."

"They strike in the wee small hours, when everyone's asleep. Quick and quiet; no screams." Kili continued from Fili in the same light tone, and Senga realised suddenly that they were trying to wind him up. Bilbo still hung on every word as she whipped back, a deep frown on her face.

"Just lots of blood." Kili finished, a mock horrified look in his eye until it broke into a laughing grin. Senga stared at the two, who finally looked back to her, smirks faltering. But before she could say anything, Thorin beat her to it.

"You think that's funny? You think a night raid by orcs is a joke?"

She hadn't even heard him come up behind her. Kili cowed.

"We didn't mean anything by it."

"No, you didn't. You know nothing of the world."

By this time the whole encampment was listening as Thorin strode away to the edge of the cliff, face closed but for the eyes that still blazed.

"Don't mind him laddie." Balin said gently, coming up from behind the rock. Senga continued to glare.

"You don' _joke _abou' stuff like tha'." She said in disbelief. Balin met her eyes pointedly, seeming to look her up and down whilst holding her gaze.

"No, lassie," he said slowly. "But Thorin…has more cause than most to hate orcs."

Senga's eyes widened as Balin began to speak of King Thror's attempt to re-take Moria. Before her eyes flashed the images she knew belonged to the Black Pit – the ransacked halls and crumbling stairs; the great chambers of the Dwarrowdelf. In the films it had been Alan Lee that had designed it, but he only brought to life what she'd imagined reading the book. And she'd imagined the orcs too – twisted and terrible. The ruin of Melkor, said to be either the corrupted and mutilated legacy of either elves or men, no one could decide which. Monsters with a hatred for everything that walked under the sun; for everything that wasn't them.

And, in the end, for they themselves.

Then Balin spoke of Azog the Defiler and Senga felt her mouth run dry. Balin met her eyes where she stood and spoke plainly, a weary horror still there in his pale blue gaze.

"The giant Gundabad orc had sworn to wipe out the line of Durin." Senga raised her eyebrows, glancing quickly round to where Thorin stood unmoving on the cliff's edge. When she looked back, Balin had an expression somewhere between reluctance and grief. For some reason he was considering her in his next words.

"He began…" Balin looked sharply at Senga, eyes unnerving as he hesitated. "…by beheading the king."

Senga felt as if she'd been walloped in the stomach. Her face went numb as stone as the blood drained from it, her knees locked so that she wouldn't fall. She imagined, as if it were happening before her eyes, Azog the Defiler swinging for Thror's head –

– _a bottle; a sitting room with a stereo and magazines. A sofa and a lamp with a shade in the corner. The bottle was dark green; the label was black, the hand clutching the neck was pale and grubby. And she was there; she was beautiful but for the tears streaming down her cheeks. She was beautiful. She was beautiful as the hand holding the bottle brought it crashing towards her nose. As it hit – _

Senga's eyes _slammed _shut. Her throat, eyes, nose and very being sucked inwards – as if that could block the scene from playing out in her head. When they opened, Balin continued his story, speaking of Thrain's grief and their impending defeat. She hadn't realised she'd sat down until Balin came suddenly to the part of Thorin's vengeance and she had to look up to find the dwarf in the gloom. Balin's eyes sparkled with pride, speaking as if he were recalling a story from legend. He told of Thorin's victory over Azog, wielding nothing but an oaken branch in his defence, and how he came to lead their people to salvation over the orcs of Moria.

"But there was no feast; no song that night," he continued, face falling suddenly. "For our dead were beyond the count of grief."

Senga lowered her eyes to the fire, the weight of the tale strumming almost painfully through her heart.

"We few had survived."

She lifted her head and saw the sorrow still wrought on that old face, shared, as she watched, by his brother and cousins. For a split second, the image of his tomb in Moria, a lifetime from now, flashed before her eyes and caught in her chest. Yet before she could follow the thought, he was speaking again, eyes only for the King-in-Exile.

"There's one I could follow." He said, both grave and reverent. "There's one I could call king."

The whole company was stood as Thorin turned, eyes rimmed red. They looked on in awe, and Senga couldn't help but agree with Balin in that moment. Here was a man that could face down insurmountable odds and stand at the end, defiant against the sky. Yet as she looked, Senga fancied she could see something else. As if the mask had slipped, just slightly, leaving bare what was behind it, just this once.

For all the dwarves between them, his eyes found hers for the second time that night. And she held them; their strength and their pain. A pain so raw, even after all this time, that it burned a void at the centre of the storm.

He was the first to look away, the walls coming back up as he walked among his men, but she never forgot that look. Shared only with her. It caused a crack to appear on the inside of her heart in a way she'd forgotten it could.

"And the Pale Orc?" Bilbo asked behind her. "What happened to him?"

"He slunk back into the hole whence he came." Thorin answered harshly. "That filth died of his wounds long ago."

Senga didn't entirely miss the look Gandalf gave Balin at this. Both looked deeply troubled in a way that made Senga suspect they knew something more of this that they were keeping to themselves. The moment faded, however, and she turned her eyes back to stare into the fire. A ringing seemed to have settled in her ears, blurring the crackling flames. She sat there for a long time whilst the rest of the company retreated gradually back to sleep. At length, she noticed Balin still watching her.

"Are you alright lass?"

For a while she didn't answer. Then she spoke in a low chant, still staring into the flickering firelight.

"_The world was fair, the mountains tall,_

_In Elder Days before the fall_

_Of mighty kings in Nargothrond_

_And Gondolin, who now beyond_

_The Western Seas have passed away:_

_The world was fair in Durin's Day._"

She'd memorised it long since in the days when it was her only company; a song sung by Gimli as the fellowship passed through the dark. She recounted it as best she could, having forgotten at least portions of it, but it was like drawing poison from a wound, reminding her she was still alive. By the end there was no snoring and all in the camp were utterly still.

"_The darkness dwells in Durin's halls;_

_The shadow lies upon his tomb_

_In Moria, in Khazad-dûm._"

Her voice trailed away, slipping into the night.

"I can' remember the rest." She whispered, barely audible over the fire. Balin sighed, a smile on his gentle face as he finished the song.

"_But still the sunken stars appear_

_In dark and windless Mirrormere;_

_There lies his crown in water deep,_

_Till Durin wakes again from sleep._"

Senga met his eyes as he laid a hand on her shoulder, the soft blue over-bright. For a time he simply smiled as the fire died low.

"Get some sleep, lass." He murmured gently. "Go on."

Senga nodded, only then noticing how weary she really was. She stumbled to her bed roll by the brothers (both of whom watched her in amazement) before collapsing on it and falling instantly away.

* * *

"Was tha' entirely necessary?" Dwalin asked quietly as Balin settled.

"I though' so."

The younger dwarf grunted disbelievingly, turning over as he pulled the furs tighter around himself. Balin closed his eyes and let sleep wash over him, lulled by Senga's soft rendition of the _Song of Durin_. A smile pulled his lips as he remembered his king's eyes when he looked upon their young charge. There was no denying it now. It was mad and beyond impossible, but it was there, plain as day.

To the rest of them, anyway.

Balin chuckled to himself as he thought of how amazingly ignorant the two of them likely were, not to mention those of the company who had failed to look. He fell into dreams still wearing that amused smile.

It wasn't until much, much later that he was awoken by the scream that rent the air.

* * *

_**AN: This is, without a doubt, the single longest chapter I have ever written! Seriously, I'm paranoid I've written too much now. Still, I'm aware I put a lot of things into this one, so I hope it balances all out. Um...where to begin?**_

_**The title is obviously a play on the line "Not all those who wander are lost" from "All That is Gold Does Not Glitter" that appears in the Fellowship of the Ring as part of Aragorn's inheritance (for want of a better thing to call it). The second half of it is actually said by Arwen in the film of the Return of the King (just to point out that random fact) and I used it because I thought it was relevant to both Senga and Thorin. Not as tight as my other titles have been, but I had the idea and liked it (shrugs).**_

_**Err...lots of sexual tension in the first bit. I loved getting in Thorin's head for that, actually, but it was way to early to bring in his perspective on things, so I kept it to Senga's point of view. **_

_**The bit with the woman: I won't say who - and, no, it wasn't Senga herself. I thought that emphasising that she thought the woman was beautiful made her witnessing everything very clear (since Senga wouldn't think of herself as beautiful) but if it doesn't I am open to hear it. Using the bottle as a weapon was actually inspired, in a morbid way, by the scene in Guillermo del Toro's Pan's Labyrinth where Vidal does just that.**_

_**The Song of Durin was in the Fellowship of the Ring and sung by Gimli in the book, as Senga recalls. I know the stanza I start it off with isn't the start of the song, but 1) it's my favourite one and, in my opinion, the most accessible in terms of plonking it into the dialogue (full songs annoy me unless they're original, and even then they're hard to read if they're put down in full) and 2) Senga only remembers part of the song, so I'd forgive her for starting there since it's near the start and easy to remember if she only remembered bits of the first stanza.**_

_**Reviews, my dear faithfuls?**_


	7. Blood and Monsters

_I realised going through this that I misspelled Khuzdul spectacularly. A thousand apologies. Oh, and I should probably warn of the gore, slight drug use, and slight self harm. Mostly gore, but I did want to use it to bring out the horror, so bear with me. It's meant to make you wince. Onward!_

_**Chapter Six**_

**Blood and Monsters**

_She couldn't move. That was what terrified her the most._

_She was pressed against the cupboard door and couldn't move a muscle._

_She should have been inside – she should've been hiding; invisible. That was how the nightmare was supposed to go. It should've played over and over as she watched, tormenting her; trapping her, until it was all her world ever was. It should've been like being encased in crystal and stuck on a shelf; crushed and burrowing down, tangled in the towels and blankets of the cupboard._

_Not like this._

_The images assaulting her were so clear they physically hurt; so open, it was if she stood in the memory itself. The light floated softly over the floor; the magazines littered the coffee table, the shade on the lamp in the corner looked almost grey-blue rather than black. The stereo sat quietly in the corner. The old sofa, patched, stained and full of bits of fluff, just sat hulking on the carpet so that a space was left in the middle._

_Like a minstrel's stage._

_She wanted to scream._

_She wanted to charge the bastard as he stepped onto the stage, all violence and fury and grubby hands, but the play continued as if she were not there at all._

_She couldn't move._

_Not even to scream._

_She had to do _something_ – clawing away the world and ending with his face sounded like a fucking good place to start. But the horror...the old horror; the horror of a child…crept into her bones before she could so much as muster a thought. It invaded her, silver-black, and latched itself around her heart; her senses, her breath, her body. It held her tight with a single thought._

'_There's nothing you can do. There's nothing you can do. There's –'_

_She watched everything. She felt everything. Every noise, every touch; every fleck of dust and crumbling paint beneath her rigid fingertips. She watched…and she felt the tears sliding fast down her face. But they weren't her tears – and it wasn't her face. She was stood against the cupboard _and _before the drunken monster towering over her. Observing – witnessing – and yet _feeling _at the same time in the way the mind can only accomplish in a dream._

_She was aware of her own body pressed hard into the wooden slats behind her._

_She was aware of the hand, pale and filthy, gripping her wrist like a steel vice._

_Her spine bent backwards under the strain; it cracked as she tried to move from her vigil. The sensation was excruciating._

_And still she couldn't move._

_She had to move…she had to…she had to stop –_

_The hand had the bottle. The bottle was moving. No slow motion, no cushioning time to think. It simply fell from the point she watched it towards her face (that wasn't her face)._

_That's when she screamed. She screamed as it hit, blood streaming down tear-stained cheeks from the crushed vessels. Then again, flattening the skin. Then again. For the interval of a moment, it looked as if her nose had merely been pressed (though the pain told her otherwise) for it was smooth and clean. Not damaged. Not gone. Just – _

_The flat of the bottle impacted one final time and the centre of her face…exploded. There was no other way to describe it. Blood and bone burst outwards as she fell to the floor, a high keening escaping her lips that was as alien a sound as Senga had ever heard. And it was coming from her lips – she could still _feel_ it. It was drowned in the end by the scream tearing from her own lungs; the __unending __cry of a thousand banshees wailing in her head. And the blood seeped into the carpet…all that blood…_

_She ripped free of the paralysis, but not before the bastard finished the job; hacking flesh and skull until there was nothing left._

_Nothing._

_No face. _

_How could someone not have a face?_

_The blood pooled, spread, sank...and the smell…the smell was like metal and acid and polluted water..._

_ How could one person have so much blood in them?_

_She was running. The world collapsed around her, but still she ran, feet mangled through broken glass. Things tried to hold her back through the dark, but she would not stop. Not stop. Until at last she fell, face pressed painfully into the ground. The things pressed closer, unseen. Hands; fingers, nails…_

_A keening noise filled her ears – one so like the sounds _she _made, it caused Senga to choke on her own short breath. Until she realised it was coming from her own mouth. She tried to scramble forwards, fingers scrabbling for purchase in the frozen, ash-like soil. Far off, she could hear someone yelling her name. Or…knew it was her name without hearing, as one does in a dream. She tried to raise her head, but it was so heavy. Her whole body felt as if it were made of rock. _

_Her brain refused to work._

_Her name?_

_Much closer, was a sound that made no sense – and one she had hoped never to hear in real life. Or even in a dream. It was the horror of someone else's story._

_The crunch of metal boots._

_She tried blindly to tunnel into the ash, pressing herself down until she couldn't breathe at all. Her eyes screwed shut and her throat _burned. _Her mouth was clogged full, and the things clawed at her, her name on their tongues. The pain in her oesophagus and in her mouth became horrific as her lungs throbbed, begging for air._

_A harsh, guttural laugh descended over her._

"_Senga!"_

_The trail of a metal weapon in the dirt…_

"_Senga –"_

Wham!

* * *

The sensation of being hit by a wall of balloons while at the same time being shoved into a freezer, yanked her to consciousness like an electric chair. Her eyes snapped open, and then shut again as they met a wall of black. Everything on her face hurt, but as soon as she regained consciousness, the pressure lifted marginally. It was exactly the opportunity for someone – the person whose hands were tight on her wrists – to yank her arms away from where they were clamped over her nose.

"Oh, thank _Mahal_ for tha'!"

"Is she okay?"

"She's really ill!"

"Senga!" She stared, wide eyed, at the last voice and into the bright, penetrating eyes of Gandalf as he knelt before her. "Can you hear me?"

She tried to speak, but it came out a confused gurgle that seared her throat. The person holding her wrists held her up as she fell into a fit of coughing, desperately trying to draw in air. There was wet everywhere – on her face, in her hair. The soft, warm trickling told her some of it was from her nose, but when she looked down and saw blood and vomit everywhere she squeaked in panic.

"It's alright, it's alright! Senga…look at me!"

The wizard held her eyes as she fought back the urge to bolt.

"You are safe." He said firmly. "There is nothing here that will hurt you and you yourself are unharmed."

She cocked an eyebrow, aware that she was literally covered in her own blood, but the hands were comforting now. They soothed her, and slowly she believed what Gandalf said. The world came back into focus as her breathing normalised (though it still hurt) and she took stock.

Blood. Throw up. Cold water. Dream. Screaming. Dwarves.

It didn't take long to process what had happened. She tugged weakly at the hold on her wrists.

"I'm alrigh'." She muttered croakily. They released her hesitantly, letting her arms fall to her sides. She stared blankly in front of her as the panic faded, leaving her numb and cold. _Like stone._ The dwarves were all craning to get a look at her; some were impatient, others angry she'd roused them. That covered the majority she could see, though no one was going back to bed yet. _Was she really _that _interesting?_

She wanted them to go away. _Oh_, she did…except that she couldn't move and her body was starting to shiver on its own. Her eyes dropped to fix on the ground a few feet from her, the rough dirt on the edge of the turf dancing with the flickering firelight. She was numb.

Like she'd been emptied out.

"Senga?"

"Hmm?"

It took far more effort than it should have done to look into Balin's eyes. Far from looking angry or annoyed, he looked downright terrified.

"Lassie?" his voice was quiet, almost begging. He was next to Gandalf, but the wizard moved aside so that he could move to clasp her cheek with one hand. The other shook slightly as he laid it over her leather-clad arm, and he was desperately searching her face. She wondered what the hell she'd done; what the hell he was looking at as his blue eyes shone with fear.

So she did what she was good at when her brain went into overload.

"Who threw the water?"

_Never talk when – actually, just never talk. That'd be a better policy._

Balin's face split into a small, relieved smile. At the same time, twin sets of nearly giddy laughter sounded to her left and she looked up to see Fili and Kili, both breathing deeply.

"That would've been me." Kili shot her a nearly-normal grin.

"But Bofur got the water from the stream." Fili added quickly.

Bofur waved amicably from where he stood in the shadows behind the brothers. There too stood the King Under the Mountain, staring at her with an intensity she could barely place. By the way the three were standing; it almost looked as if Thorin had been holding them back. Their eyes met, though his were suddenly somewhere else. He looked more shocked than anything.

Senga nodded into Balin's hand, trying her best not to be crushed as a wave of emotion crashed down. She swallowed heavily, shutting her eyes tight and shaking uncontrollably.

"Oh, lass."

Balin pulled her towards him, apparently heedless of the watery muck she was covered in, and pressed his forid to hers.

"Lass, it's okay. We'll no' let harm come to you."

"I'm alrigh'." She mumbled again, though this time it was so quiet only Balin heard her.

"No, you're not." He said sharply, pulling away to look at her. "Righ' now, you're a mess. But you will be."

"Thing's 'll ge' better." She breathed hoarsely, looking off into the night.

"Wha' was tha'?"

"Nothin'."

Her body felt dead. She couldn't have stood up it an army of orcs burst suddenly through the trees. She was worse than dead. She was irrevocably, _wretchedly _helpless. In the dream she could do nothing, and she could do nothing now. What was the _point _of her?

"We need to get you cleaned up." Balin said at length, pulling her gently but firmly to her feet. At least her body obeyed Balin if not her. He led her to the stream, helped her take off her coat, and assisted her in removing the blood and sick from her face and hair. It was small mercy that the leather was waterproof and the surface easily washed, though a lot had managed to get down her neck. By the end of it, she was very wet and very cold, but free at last of the sticky residue. Her nose had stopped bleeding some time ago and Balin completed the ablutions without comment and Senga didn't say a word. In fact she barely moved at all. Balin guided her back to camp under a blanket and sat her down in front of the fire.

No one had gone back to bed.

"Well, if this is what a nightmare does to you." Dwalin said derisively. "Screaming like you were being cut to pieces."

Senga didn't so much as glance up. Balin seemed to snap and yelled something in Khuzdul, face red with anger. Quite soon the campsite was a pitched verbal battle above her, the voices sliding into one another.

She was probably dehydrated. Her head had started to pound as soon as the cold of the water on her face had set in. But while they were roaring, they wouldn't see the tears slowly sliding down her cheeks (her own cheeks this time). Not that she could've done much if they were looking. She couldn't move her hands to even touch them, much less swipe them away as they trickled over her lips. At least if they looked, there wasn't much danger of _them _pitying her.

"Well I think Miss Senga's been very brave!" Ori piped up over the babble, unnaturally high. "Nearly choking like that!"

"Oh, tha's brave to you, is it lad?"

"If she can' even handle nightmares…"

In the chill air, her eyes snapped up. She wasn't sure where the anger came from, but kept her from tumbling into the abyss. It pulled her back together like a jack-hammer.

_No._

She had _not _survived this long only to pack up now. _Not now._

"Oi!" She stood, blanket still clutched around her like a cloak. Silence descended. She was still shaking – badly – but the fire in her gut felt _good. _Her knees threatened to buckle under her, but for the moment they didn't dare. She just stared at the company, gaze unwavering. The tears no doubt glittered on her face in the firelight, but her voice held like steel.

"You'd judge me on a fuckin' dream? Jog _the fuck_ on!" The last part came a snarl. At that moment she felt as if she really did hold a storm caged inside her chest. Half the company flinched. Dwalin looked as if he was about to speak again, but she beat him to it.

"As if you've never had monsters hunt you down in your sleep."

The hatred was so palpable it soured in her mouth. Now Dwalin was a man who, she was quite certain, could stare down a balrog if the need arose, but this brought him to silence. He opened his mouth slightly, then shut it again, his face flickering with something like surprise. Senga just concentrated on not collapsing to the ground, _his _face dancing through her mind.

If in her life she met the greatest evils of the known world (and that was conceivable) she would never hate them as much as _him_. It wasn't possible.

Finally, Dwalin looked away, stomping off to find whatever peace he could for the few hours he had left. After that…the rest fled. Senga managed to stay standing long enough to see the last of them stumble and rush back into the darkness, eyes flicking nervously over their shoulders. Thorin stayed the longest, looking for a moment as if he were about to speak, but seemed to think better of it as he turned away, leaving just Balin, Bilbo and Gandalf. They each looked warily at her – until she started swaying in earnest, at which point Gandalf reached an arm around her shoulders and pulled her straight.

"Here," he said gently. "Have a little of this."

He pushed the handle of his pipe towards her, raising his eyebrows as she tried in vain to take hold of it in trembling fingers.

"It will calm you. Have you ever smoked before?"

"Jus' gimme the weed, old man." Senga muttered dryly, forcing her fingers to grip with a small smile. The feel of a wooden rod in her mouth was admittedly very strange – different from paper and tin foil, certainly. And the smell was milder, less cloying as it curled up her nose. The first pull left her mouth unnaturally dry, but the sensation of the smoke was silky, the taste wonderfully subtle. It calmed her breath as she exhaled, greedily inhaling the next mouthful with her next breath and suppressing a cough.

"Aye, tha's it, lassie."

Gandalf's arm kept her upright as he guided her back to the fire to sit down, head lent against his chest. Bilbo came up beside her, and Balin beside him.

"Do you…want to talk about it?" The hobbit asked evenly.

"No."

The smile folded inwards and she took another deep pull on the pipe.

"Is there anything we can do?"

"No." She said softly. "It's an old dream."

Silence descended between them, heavy with the unspoken. Balin stared deeply into the fire, brows drawn together, and Gandalf just sat quietly. After a time, Senga looked up at him and gestured with the pipe.

"Do you mind?"

"Oh…oh, not at all." He said with a twinkling smile. Numb contentment settled around her ears as she finished the pipe weed, vaguely aware of Bilbo nodding off on her other side. Eventually, Balin took pity on him and got up to take him to bed. As he did, he gave Senga a concerned look.

"Lassie…"

"Go on." She murmured. "I've slept enough for tonight."

To her surprise, he took this without protest and departed with the hobbit. Gandalf hummed an odd little tune she didn't recognise, letting her curl into his side as he watched over them. It felt childish; as if she were tiny again, but in her weed-induced state of calm it didn't matter. She barely noticed as her eyelids grew heavy, the world's light lifting from black to deep blue.

* * *

"_Gandalf?"_

"_Master Kili, if you would perhaps move over a little."_

_The wizard deposited his soundly sleeping burden next to the dumbstruck (and still very awake) dwarf._

"_Make sure to keep her warm, if you will." He said amicably, before striding promptly away. Kili stared after him, mouth opening and closing like a fish before Fili poked him hard in the back._

"_What?"_

"_Oh sweet Aulё – move."_

_Kili spluttered as Fili crawled over him, dragging his make-shift bed to Senga's other side and throwing his blanket over her. Kili scowled at him._

"_Do you suppose she'll tell us?" The blonde asked after a while, looking her up and down and noting how pale she'd become; how vulnerable she looked in sleep._

"_Not a chance." Kili muttered wretchedly, edging closer to her in the remains of the dark. "I wish she would." He added quietly. Fili watched as he curled an arm around Senga's and settled his head at her shoulder._

"_If she'll tell anyone, it'll be you." He said, trying to sound reassuring. Kili just shook his head._

"_She won't say anything. And if she does it'll be to Balin or Bilbo. Or Gandalf."_

"_She trusts you."_

_Kili made a non-believing sound in his throat, burrowing his nose into the warmth of her arm._

"_She does. Whatever she feels for you, brother, she does trust you." Then after a moment, he risked, "And she doesn't want to send you away."_

_Buried in the warm leather, Kili sighed._

* * *

It was spitting when she woke up. In fact, it rained for three days solid, but it was that first day that nearly killed her.

Worried or suspicious glances followed her wherever she went, but always there was someone at her side trying to deflect them. She wished they would go away. By sunset, everyone was cold, wet and miserable, and Senga was aware she'd said nothing for hours. She sat at the edge of the camp after fetching the ponies' food and water. They were in a dripping grove that offered some shelter from overhanging trees, but it was pointless in the end. Everything was either wet or damp. .She ached. And for the first time all day, she was alone.

_This was what you wanted, _an annoying voice reminded.

All she _wanted_ was a bit of peace. At least when Bilbo came up next to her, he simply offered her his presence and the occasional inquiry to her comfort. Fili and Kili simply wouldn't stop bothering her. And Ori was avoiding her. This hurt more than she ever believed it would.

Gandalf and Balin let her be, though neither was far away.

It should have given her comfort.

Oh, but the _questions_. It was bad enough that she could barely order her thoughts as it was without the _questions. _Her head and throat ached. Her stomach churned.

So she kept a straight back and chewed what she could as a necessity. She was careful to keep her eyes ahead and her senses attentive. It didn't matter that that her body hurt and every mile plucked more insistently at her sleep-deprived, overwrought wits. She could give the illusion of normality.

She was good at that.

Or was with strangers, anyway. It took all the willpower she had not to push the brothers away with a very pointy metaphorical barge pole.

Scream at them until her anger was vented.

Fight them until her violence was sated.

She didn't. She couldn't have borne it. Never had she felt so completely _shattered._ At first she couldn't work out why – and then she'd remember waking to Fili's face, hair mused with sleep, and the feeling of Kili draped over her other side. She'd been so very cold that morning, except where Kili held her close.

He'd held her _safe._

She'd tried to move, and his arms had momentarily tightened. And in that one, selfish moment, she'd turned her body towards his and pulled him closer. She'd put her arm around his both and her head next to his.

_She hadn't cried._

It was as if she were a corpse and his body was the only thing holding her to the life slipping away from her. She'd never had anyone to hold like that. None that she'd ever reached out to that _needed her_.

She_ hadn't _cried.

Then he'd woken and she'd met his eyes with such guilt and self-disgust he'd baulked. She'd rolled away, stood up, and barely looked at him since. She hadn't looked at anyone much.

_You wanted to be alone._

Thorin had been the most confusing. She'd expected him to be even more taciturn than usual, but he'd simply ignored her, giving an even better illusion of normalcy than her. It brought a humourless smile to her lips when she considered he'd had more time to perfect it.

"You alright, Senga?"

Her body tensed horribly…and then she caught herself. Fili approached from the main group with his wide grin and a morsel of cheer. Her head spun slightly and her legs throbbed, but she covered it with the same statuesque stance she'd held all day and acknowledged him without annoyance.

Which was an accomplishment.

He seemed to sense her effort and nodded.

"I brought you dinner." He pushed the soggy bowl towards her. Her jaw felt like it had locked, and nodded awkwardly. She ate mechanically, sending the orders to chew without tasting the food. Actually she really did feel ill, but it wasn't the first time she'd forced herself to eat and she told herself it'd make her feel better. _Hopefully._ As the uncomfortable silence descended, she thought (not for the first time) of how she'd actually managed to throw up in her sleep.

Oh, she'd _woken up _in sick before, but not since…and she'd never done it while asleep, no matter how bad the dream.

Fili was watching her, anxiety winning slowly through the forced grin. Finally, he put down his own bowl and moved purposefully to her side. She flinched when he put his arm firmly around her twinging shoulders, keeping it there despite her glare.

"You can't avoid him forever."

"Who?" _She'd been avoiding everyone. And she didn't want to think about Kili._

"He thinks he's wronged you. He's been fretting all day."

"I'm in no state to talk to him." She said emotionlessly.

"So you're not going to talk to anyone?"

"No."

She tried to sound stubborn; angry – even childish would've been good. It would've meant she felt something, _anything_, but her voice was as void. She felt as cold as the drops falling disjointedly from the branches above.

"Why?"

_Such a simple question…_

"You can't just close yourself away from us –"

"Watch me!"

She stood so suddenly, Fili had to flail to stop from pitching backwards.

_Anger. That's good. Something solid._

He shouted in alarm, but she was already striding away into the dripping forest. She lost him quickly in the falling night and found a clump of brush to jam her back against, long knife in her hands. Her muscles had taken on the consistency of her stomach, but her will remained for the moment. She heard shouting and crashing as people searched, but she answered none of their calls. She didn't want to be found – not this time. She was invisible in the dark and rain, sat among the briars.

More footsteps, more crashing. More rain.

_Voices, crashing, rain._

She shuddered, trying to hold herself together.

From behind her (though the downpour made everything blur together) she heard something faint – maybe twenty feet away – and worried briefly, but it didn't sound again. And although she wouldn't hear Bilbo coming, he didn't have the skill to find her in the first place. She was safe. _She couldn't be seen._ She stared ahead, water dripping off her nose.

It took much longer than she expected, but eventually the crashing ended, easing the throbbing in her head. Thorin said something in the far distance, baritone carrying despite the confusion.

And then it was just the rain.

* * *

"She can' 'ave gone far!" Gloin's determined voice was lost in the thundering deluge.

"Maybe she's left for good this time. An' good riddance!"

Only those right next to Dwalin heard him properly – namely Balin and Kili – and it was perhaps lucky that a thunderclap chose that moment to drown out Kili's response.

"She'll catch her death in this weather!" Bofur shouted from away to their right.

"Aye, and so will _we_ if we tramp around much longer like bloody confused fairies!" Dori turned to try to recall his brothers.

"But we can't just leave her out there!" Fili yelled desperately. Balin suspected he blamed himself for Senga's sudden departure, though it was her way, frustrating as it was. She sought solitude in times of pain, ignoring all attempts to offer her comfort. And this time they would be forced to let her – it was impossible to see more than three feet in front of them and the more weary they were, the worse it got.

"Gandalf? Can you no' light our way?"

"That, my dear Balin, is exactly what I have been attempting to do! It has little effect in the face of this downpour."

"There mus' be something we can do?"

"Face it, brother!" Dwalin turned to him, barely visible only a few paces away. "She's lost and she's no' coming back!"

"Don't say that!" Kili slipped on the slick ground and crashed into the trunk of a fir. Balin rushed quickly to his aid, more worried about him being turned around in the dark than of him risking injury.

"She won' 'ave gone far." He mused as he hauled the dwarfling to his feet. Kili looked at him in confusion.

"Then why 'asn't she answered us?"

"Because she does not wish to be found." Thorin appeared out of the murk at Balin's shoulder. He looked drawn. Then again he had done all day; his anger smouldered on a damp surface as he looked vainly about them, having about as much luck seeing through the dark as they.

"Of course she doesn' wish to be found!" Balin said exasperatedly. "She's worse than you!"

Thorin's eyes flashed.

"So we're just going to _leave her_?" Kili shouted angrily.

"There's nothing else we _can _do!" Thorin grabbed him by the shoulder and started steering the four of them back to camp, calling the others. Balin saw Fili stumbling and sliding towards them as the rest assembled, face still full of open panic. Kili wrenched his arm free to stand by his brother, but Fili gave him a look of such guilt, it was almost heart breaking as his gaze turned back to his uncle.

"Thorin –"

"We cannot search while the rain holds." He said simply, roaring over the chaos. "If she has not returned, we will seek her again in the morning. We can do no more tonight."

"She'll get pneumonia out here!" Fili entreated desperately.

"Then if she is wise, she will return!" Thorin's storm-eyes blazed through the watery night. "We have little time for distractions on this quest, much less the tantrums of a spoilt child!"

Fili opened his mouth to protest, but another roll of thunder near shook the ground beneath them and he was forced to close it. Thorin was already turning, and as much as Balin hated to admit it, he was right. It was futile to continue flailing about in the blasted storm trying to find one girl in the underbrush. Not when she didn't want to be found.

Fili's head fell to his chest, and he looked utterly dejected as he followed up behind his uncle, flanked by Dwalin. Kili however…

Out of the corner of his eye, Balin saw the lad slip away from the rest and into the darkened branches of another fir. He suppressed a sigh. He knew that no amount of words could dissuade his foolishness, but in his heart he was secretly and overwhelmingly relieved. If there was one in the company that stood a chance of persuading her to come back – other than Bilbo, and he was shivering like a leaf – it was their maverick archer.

On the border of the camp, Thorin looked over his shoulder. He didn't miss much.

"Let him bring her back." Balin said simply.

Thorin looked like he was having some kind of internal struggle. There was regret, fear, confusion, frustration, guilt…

He swore violently under his breath.

* * *

_Rain slid off her face as if it were stone. _

_The blood on her thumb stained the water on her skin. Kili felt the cut when he reached for her hand in the dark, barely avoiding slicing his own on the blade she still held out before her. _

_She didn't look at him._

"_Senga?"_

_He was scared. Not as scared as he'd been when she was in the throes of crushing her own face, but still terrified. She looked like a ghost in the thick darkness. It was amazing he'd found her at all._

"_Senga…don't do this." His voice was horribly weak._

_Nothing. The grip on her forearms was urgent, but he couldn't get closer without being gored._

"_What haunts you so? What dream could be so bad?"_

_Her skin was colder than it should've been. The tear on her thumb made no sense until her blade tilted suddenly towards the skin. She split it without a sound._

"_No!" Kili hadn't the first idea what to do. His panicked scream reverberated around the area. The weapon he yanked away, holding it at arm's length. He stared at her with painfully wide eyes. Still she didn't look at him._

"_Senga, please!" he was trembling with either shock or horror (the two blended together) and somehow managed to let go of her. A hand shot out to reclaim his touch. It was like the time he'd caught his arm in the mining pulleys._

"_I'm sorry."_

"_Senga…"_

"_I'm sorry."_

_With aching slowness, she wrapped strong arms around his chest. _

_Kili didn't know what to do. He loved her – or so he thought. He'd never been in love before. And even with the fell shadows, she was beautiful. She was contradiction. Young and old; perilous and familiar. Found and lost. Who was he to her? He longed for her. _

_But she needed him. A strange thought occurred to him then._

_She needed him. She needed not a lover, but she needed _him_. _

_He sheathed the knife at her side and rocked them back. She settled between his knees. He pressed her closer than she was trying to press herself, and there she stayed. She mumbled the words over and over into his neck until she came to silence. _

_Her brow felt unnaturally hot under his chin. He was still confused. _

_But he would've been a bigger fool than his reputation suggested if he were to forsake her heart for his own. Perhaps she did need a lover and perhaps he would ask, but for now he was what she had._

_He would ask about the cutting when she woke up._

_And with that determined train of thought, he picked her up securely in his arms (staggering a little, he had to admit) and took her back to camp._

* * *

"See there, Dwalin? Nothing to worry about. The lass just needed some time to herself."

Dwalin watched Kili stumble through the trees, both he and his burden soaked to the skin bar their leather coats. Thorin saw them and looked away – jealous probably, as _ludicrous _as it was. The bloody idiot was trying to hide it. Well, at least Dwalin couldn't blame him for wanting to fuck her; she was _pale _and her eyes _glimmered. _So did most tarts'.

"What is it about her you hate so much, Mister Dwalin?" Bofur said suddenly, voice hard. "And don't give me the shite that this is all about her being a woman, 'cos that's just untrue."

_Balin made you swear..._

He loosed an expletive that had Bifur barking a reprimand from the other side of camp.

* * *

"Wha'…the hell?"

"You've go' a wee fever, lassie."

"Why didn' you wake me?"

Kili laughed, the arm around her waist juddering a bit with the motion.

"You were dead to the world, you were."

"I could've ridden on me own, though." She rasped indignantly, fighting the wave of fatigue that assaulted her ravaged limbs. The second day of falling rain made her skin twinge. She shivered.

"And 'ave you falling off on us?" Kili set his chin on her shoulder, pulling her back closer to his chest. "Not a chance, our Miss Senga."

She had to admit it was nice. She remembered the warmth he'd given her when he'd let her cling to him; let her burry the nightmare in his skin. Confused shapes and horrors danced across her mind – _eat your heart out, pink elephants – _but all the while she'd clung to him, they'd kept at bay. And he hadn't allowed her to let go in the brief minutes she was lucid in the darkest hours of the night, either.

"It's alright," Fili came up beside them with a genuine grin. "Arthur will carry you both as long as you need."

"Arth –" Senga rolled her eyes. "Who names a _pony _Arthur?"

"Oi!" Kili leant back in mock outrage. "This here is the most noble beast you've ever meet!"

"So you called him Arthur?"

"Yes!" his face was so serious even as Fili started to laugh. For the first time in two days, a smile tugged at her lips. The sight of it made Kili's face light up.

"There we are!" Fili exclaimed enthusiastically. Senga sighed wearily and leant back into Kili's chest, trying to find some way to rest her head.

"Aye, lassie, sleep 'll do you good." Balin rode together with Bilbo behind them, smiling encouragingly. "Every nightly horror wears off, given time and rest."

She nodded dully. Kili put his chin on her shoulder again as her eyes drooped closed

"I wish you'd let us help you, you know."

"You did help me, Kili."

She drifted in and out of sleep as they passed through the dripping forests, occasionally breaking out into open turf. When this happened, Kili did his best to keep her dry, lending her his hood to keep the water off her face. At least she had her own coat which kept her reasonably dry beneath it – unlike Bilbo, whose shirt and jacket had been wet since the day before. Given the circumstances, she was amazed that they weren't dropping like flies to the sniffles. But dwarves, it seemed, were built as hardily on the inside as out.

She suspected the tea Dori distributed to all of them when they stopped for the day helped as well. Fili wouldn't let it drop until she'd downed two cups – not that she was complaining, just tired. She curled up with as much dignity as she could muster, shivering and aching, but for once not minding that Kili wouldn't leave her side. She poked him indignantly, but that only made him gather her up in his arms again.

_Guilt. _Not strong this time, but she felt it nonetheless. Wrapped up in a blanket on his lap, she had to say something now.

"Kili –"

"Why were you cutting your thumb?" He blurted out suddenly. It was as if the question had been biting at him all day, but he hadn't been able to ask it. Senga stared at, mouth slightly parted. It took her a very long time to respond, a battle raging between her newfound trust in him and the dark pits of her own head. Only the safety of his presence and the weakening of her own defences in that moment allowed her to respond at all. But in this she owed him the truth.

"Because," she murmured haltingly. "I couldn' feel anythin'. I couldn' feel anything at all."

Kili's brows drew tightly together. To her enormous surprise, the sight made her chuckle.

"I hate it when you do tha'."

"Do what?" Kili was bewildered.

"Gimme tha' _stare_. Like you're looking righ' into me…or through me, or somethin'. You're the spittin' image o' Thorin when you do tha'."

At this, his eyebrows rose so high they disappeared into his fringe.

"Oh, no' you look like you again." She smiled into his collar as she curled languidly back against him. It faded again as she realised she still hadn't got to the point. Absently, she laid her scarred hand against his heart and sighed heavily.

"I wish I'd had a brother like you." She whispered brokenly. He looked down. "I don' kno' how to say it another way."

Kili looked utterly lost for words. For a second, Senga took his shock for being wounded and felt her heart sink. She made to move away, but a strong arm kept her anchored in place and, to her surprise, he smiled.

"You don't have to say anything."

"I'm sorry, Kili."

"Don't be!" he smiled gently and brushed her hair out of her face. "I'll live."

"You're no' gonna moon afte' me?"

"Ey, you're not the first girl I've ever looked at, you know." He thought for a moment. "I admit you're probably the prettiest, but –"

"I'm no' pretty." She looked blearily at him as if he was mad.

"What are you on about? Of course you're pretty – even looking like you're half-dead, you're still pretty!"

"Tasha's pretty." She mumbled. Kili shook his head and pulled her close, rocking her back and forth like a babe.

"You're definitely the maddest." He said wryly after a moment. She smiled at that. Bilbo joined them shortly afterwards with more tea and some broth that Senga eventually managed to get down. It kept her awake as Bilbo interrogated Gandalf on the wizards of middle earth. She'd asked the question of Tolkien's books about a week before, and remembered his answer with a smile.

"_Oh, the connection between your world and this one never truly closes, regardless of the door. Dreams of what adventures transpire either side may permeate the minds of the great, if important enough – though of course they are never recognised for what they are. That the future is chronicled through these tombs of yours speaks merely of the strange nature of time itself when viewed though the gap._"

"_So how many actually _kno'_ about this?"_

"_Oh, very few. You are indeed fortunate, young Senga."_

"Uncle really looks at you like that?"

Her head hurt as it snapped up to look at Kili, eyes narrowed. At least (thank the gods) he'd said it quietly, but it didn't stop her chest lurching as if she'd cornered on a rollercoaster.

"Like what?" Fili came up beside them, and ill as she was, she delivered a very adequate elbow to Kili's gut. Fili smirked. Bilbo actually reprimanded Kili for being impertinent, and she smiled savagely before drifting into a blissfully dreamless slumber.

* * *

"Thank Christ!"

The rain stopped on the fourth day. The third day was an alternatingly wet and damp slog along a muddy ridge, her still riding with Kili. But on the fourth day, she awoke to watery sunlight. And the ability to stand without her head spinning.

"Well you're certainly looking better, Miss Senga!"

"Fuckin' _feel _better, Bofur."

"And no more dreams?"

That sobered her. It was true she'd had none, but that might have had something to do with Kili wrapping his proportionately lanky limbs around her every night.

"No." she said eventually. "No more monsters."

The company slowly dried out under the sun. They travelled in the rocky open for most of the day, the shadowy lay of mountains appearing suddenly out of the warm haze. Misty snorted beneath her, apparently having missed her for the days she'd been on Arthur, and she smiled a little more.

They made good time, despite the way the land rolled, and came eventually came to a sheltered hill. A stretch of wood bordered it with wilding elm and ash. There was clearing a short way away perfect to picket the ponies. But what drew her eye was the skeleton of a farmhouse, set atop the hill.

* * *

_**A.N: Right, going for an ironic ending there. And I actually managed to get to the point where I wanted the story to be without getting distracted, which was nice. I don't believe in 'filler chapters' - everything has a purpose, even if it's just to get the characters to where you need them to be (physically, emotionally, aesthetically). It's still part of the story and it's part of being a writer to come up with interesting things that happen even if it's not directly related to the main plot.**_

_**I brought in multiple perspectives in this chapter because I thought of them at the time. I realise this is a bit mixed up, stylistically, but I've done my best to tie it all together.**_

_**Still Senga won't talk, I know, but she is getting there. Being sick was a plot device to lower her emotional defences enough to let Kili in, which is progress. Reviews, loyal readers? (still can't believe I actually have readers, it's such a buzz!)**_


	8. Storms in a Pot to Brew

_**Chapter Seven**_

**Storms in a Pot to Brew**

"Senga?"

"Wha'?" She turned in the saddle to find Bilbo coming up behind her, following her gaze to the house. "Oh. Ah, I've probably played too many RPGs. 's a bi' of a theme with ruins to have nasties in them. Or treasure."

They watched as Gandalf and Thorin dismounted and ascended the hill.

"In this case, I'm more concerned wi' wha' migh' o' done this. Looks pretty recent…"

Curiosity got the better of her as she dismounted Misty and joined them, stumping up to where Gandalf was examining the wall.

"'s been smashed up," she mused, running her fingers along the remains of a beam. "Wi' bits burnt down on this side."

"Yes," the wizard looked around them with growing concern. "A farmer…and his family…used to live here."

"How long ago was tha'?" Gandalf gave her a sharp look, but she was forming the conclusion herself. She knew charcoal if she knew anything and she wasn't so stupid as to ignore the alarm bells going off.

"This is fresh." She said quietly, withdrawing her fingers.

"Yes."

Gandalf turned abruptly, his hand going to her shoulder.

"I think it would be wiser to move on." He continued in a carrying voice as Thorin approached. The dwarf king gave her a piercing look that she did her best to meet – despite the fact it made her feel as if she hadn't got any clothes on. Belligerent stubbornness was the only way she managed to keep calm; to show no effect on her face at all. She mentally checked her fever-battered armour, and felt a stab of triumph when she realised it was mostly intact. _Mostly._

Part of her wanted to scream at the alarming thought that Thorin could see right through whatever skin she tried to wear.

_How the fuck does he _do _that?_

Kili was one thing – he and Fili kept her out of the dark and the archer had even followed her inside to hold her back. If that didn't justify her fragile trust, she didn't know what did. _Thorin_, on the other hand, had done nothing of the sort – _whilst_ presuming to look at her like…_that_.

Like he could peruse her darkest secrets at a glance.

_FUCK –_

"We have seen few more promising places to stop." He said, raising an eyebrow to Senga before flicking his eyes to Gandalf.

"There is always the alternative…" Gandalf sighed hesitantly and Thorin tensed, seeming to know what he was about to say. "We _could_ make for the Hidden Valley."

"I have told you already, I will not go near that place."

"You mean Imladris?" Senga said suddenly as comprehension dawned. "Wha's wrong wi' goin' there if we can?"

Thorin looked at her as if she'd sprouted another head.

"Yeah, I kno' it's an elf city, but it's no' like it's Calas Galadhon and it'd be the perfect place to restock and get news." _Standard questing reaction, _Senga thought as Thorin scowled at her. "Plus," she continued, feeling properly helpful for the first time in weeks. "There's the map tha' Gandalf still can' read an', I mean, if there's anyone in Middle Earth who could help –"

"_Help?_" Thorin said the word as though it was an insult. "A dragon attacks Erebor. Orcs plunder Moria, desecrating our sacred halls, and yet you would turn to _them_ for _help?_ After they looked on and did _nothing?_"

"It is the most sensible course of action!" Gandalf insisted firmly, the hand on Senga's shoulder tightening as he tried to push himself between her and Thorin who had advanced to stand inches from her.

"You would ask me to seek out the very people who betrayed my grandfather?" he said quietly to the wizard, speech pulsing with anger. "Who betrayed my father?"

"You are neither of them." Gandalf asserted, both imploring and exasperated, finally succeeding in steering Senga to his side. "I did not give you that map and key so that you could hold onto the past!"

"I did not know that they were yours to keep." Thorin's voice was acid. Gandalf scowled deeply. And then turned on his heel, grey robe sweeping, and marched away, muttering under his breath. Senga watched him pass through the company of dwarves, Bilbo's expression turning to one of mounting concern as it became clear the wizard was leaving.

"Everything alright? Gandalf, where are you going?"

"To seek the company of the only one here who's got any sense_._"

"And who's that?"

"_Myself_, Mister Baggins!"

"Wonderful." Senga muttered darkly, rolling her eyes. "Good to kno' I'm no' the only one who does tha'." She added wryly as Thorin turned. His scowl deepened, choosing the default position of cold contempt before treating her like part of the wall. In fact, he was about to walk away himself before she called him back coldly.

"So, you're no' worried this is less than a week old?"

"I am versed in how to judge the safety of someplace that has been lately abandoned, Miss Senga," he said, bristling. "And I dare say I have more experience in such things than you."

It was Senga's turn to bristle. He called her childish and then _insisted _on treating her like a child – to say it infuriated her was the understatement of the century. However, she didn't fancy coming to blows over it; not after the last time and not while she still felt slightly shaky on her feet.

"So?" she asked loudly, eyes caging the firestorm. "Wha' does your _experience _say then?"

The storm eyes narrowed.

"That whatever passed through here has long since moved on." He replied curtly. "Bombur! Get supper started; we're hungry."

Senga rolled her eyes, arms folding in exasperation as she watched him move away.

"Well, if you would insist on goading him." Balin pointed out as she joined him by the sputtering fire, eyebrows raised. Senga snorted.

"If by goading him, you mean no'-so-subtly implying he's being an irrational ba–"

"Lassie!"

Senga looked up at the sharpness in Balin's voice.

"You kno', you could offer him the least bi' o' courtesy."

"I would if he offered it to _me!_" She said harshly, stomping away to help Fili and Kili with the ponies.

* * *

Balin shook his head despairingly. It was hard to get a handle on dealing with her sometimes – especially when Thorin had been being a right royal arse to her. It was as if she had a switch that flicked from child to world-weary on a whim, and that Thorin (unconsciously) knew how to press it.

Didn't mean he was exempt from blame.

"She is righ' you kno'."

"So you think I am irrational?"

"_No,_" Balin said patiently. "I have abou' as much desire to go to the elves as you, laddie." _That was an understatement._ "But you really ough' to apologise for bein' short wi' her. She was only tryin' to help."

"_Apologise?_"

"You were out o' line."

Balin felt slightly strange for chastising his king as though he was a lad still green to battle, but he _had _been discourteous. It had been understandable on Thorin's part, and Senga (mahal help them) was hardly going to just back down if she thought she was right. She burned with a fire as stubborn as any one of the ilk of Durin – never mind the rest of the dwarves – and it was a pity they were too blind to see it.

_Soon enough, _he hoped. Not that he wished danger down on them. At all. She'd seen too much pain…

And in the meantime, Thorin needed to remember that it was _he_ who supposedly held the responsibility for _not _losing composure. _Particularly_ around Senga…

…_and the eyes he couldn't take his own off of when he had the courage to look. _

"_You_…want _me…_to _apologise_…" Thorin spoke as if Balin was losing his marbles. "…to –"

"Yes, Thorin, I wan' you to apologise to her," Balin snapped. "It's no' tha' hard."

Thorin growled indignantly. Balin hid a smile behind his pack as Thorin scanned the camp for their young charge.

"She's wi' the lads."

"Indeed."

Something in his tone made Balin look up. Thorin was watching Senga and his nephews attend the ponies in the dying light with a distinctly odd look.

* * *

"You have yet to tell us how it is you drive our uncle so." Fili pointed out amicably as she kicked a saddle out of the way. It thumped to the side, but that didn't deter Kili coming up on her right.

"You don't 'ave to 'elp us, you know." He said firmly, pushing in beside her to treat Aria's sores. Senga elbowed him viciously in the stomach.

"I _am_ helping." She snapped as Kili doubled over. Fili seemed torn between sympathy and laughing at his brother for being stupid enough to try whilst Senga was in a mood. "I'm no' a fuckin' invalid 'cos of a little case of the sniffles! An' I am _no' useless!_" She added with a shout.

"I didn't say you were." Kili wheezed irritably.

"Then stop treatin' me like bleedin' a milk maid an' hand me the salves!"

The archer knew better than to try to protest a second time and dug into the bags, grumbling at the continued discomfort around his midriff. Senga immediately felt guilty for taking out her frustrations on Kili and groaned frustratedly. She leant her head against Aria's flank as he returned with the salves, forcing herself to stop.

"You're not useless, 'course you're not useless." Kili said with a soothing sigh, cautiously wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She shifted, but mentally resisted throwing him off without a thought. He didn't deserve it and she was too tired to wind herself up so over _Thorin_. As if she cared what he said or thought of her. This seemed to reassure him.

"I'm sorry." She muttered. He grinned happily. Then winced.

"_Bugger._"

"You okay?"

"That really hurt." He said, suddenly petulant.

"Oh…_diddums_." She turned with mock-sympathy.

"Yeah, I think that bruised…"

Senga shot a look to Fili as Kili prodded his belly. The blonde cocked an eyebrow, having watched the whole scene, before joining her in charging his little brother and tackling him to the ground. Kili yelped in surprise and the three scuffled for a full minute, each laughing insanely as they fought to pin the others to the floor. Finally (and Senga thought this highly unfair) the brothers decided to team up and discovered she was ticklish. The wrestling match quickly became one-sided after that, Senga refusing to surrender even though she couldn't breathe.

Fortunately, this made them careless.

"Oi!"

"Bloody Nora!"

"Shouldn' have moved your weigh'!"

Kili managed to knock Fili back as he sprang after Senga.

"That was bloody quick!" Kili chuckled incredulously as he caught her around the middle.

"Quick?"

She spun and ducked in one move, smirking triumphantly until realising she'd backed into a newly stood-up Fili.

"You should show me your sword skills, Senga." He said wryly as she tried in vain to pull the same move. "You'd be pretty lethal with moves like that. _And _you've 'ad that knife tucked away the entire time."

"_Yeah,_" She started exasperatedly. "Bu' you can' sword figh' properly wi' jus' this."

"Oh. Shame, that."

"Fuck off."

He finally released her. She spun round to flash a grin before turning on her heel – missing Kili's scowl – and marched off.

"You'll jus' 'ave to be surprised."

The lack of a full-sized sword _was_ starting to bother her a bit – another advantage of going to Rivendell, but that wasn't happening. She considered asking one of the warriors to borrow one. Frustratingly, she could think of two problems with that: firstly, none of the warriors with enough weapons to spare _other _than Fili and Kili (and maybe Bofur) would be willing to indulge her. They were barely tolerant of her as it was, especially considering the last few days.

And secondly it wouldn't be _hers_ – the reason why she didn't ask Bofur, or Kili, or Fili. It would be someone _else's_ she was bashing about and notching and, more importantly, she would be depriving them of a part of their personal arsenal for possibly the entire trip. It would just be too selfish; like raiding someone else's fridge. Except that this was something personal and she would be asking to carry it round _at all times_.

_Buggered_ if she would askfor _that _privilege.

She kicked the leaf litter in annoyance as she crossed back to the camp.

"'ey, lass!" Bofur waved her over to where he and Bombur were rustling up dinner. He gave her an odd look before continuing casually. "You've got leaves in your hair."

"Meh." Bofur looked surprised as she shrugged, unembarrassed. "I was wrestlin' wi' the lads. Wha's for tea?"

"Stewed rabbits."

"In_spirin'_."

"You think you'll be able to stomach it today, lass?"

"Hmm? Oh, yeah, I'm feelin' much better no'." Then she paused, and added quietly. "Thank you for askin', Bofur."

"'s no trouble, lass."

He smiled warmly as the shadows started to lap up around the fire. Senga felt one of her own creep onto her face; warm and soft. She stared into the fire feeling…contented. As if the troubles of the world were falling away with the gathering night. She shook her head a bit at the lunacy of it – not to mention giving herself a kick her budding complacency – but she had to admit it was nice. Was it because of Bofur? Because of Bilbo's slight chuckle at her movement and his subsequent offer of Dori's tea, passed around in a saucepan?

_Fuck me, you're going soft._

Knowing that, whatever happened, Kili would be there to catch her if she fell, and that Bofur and Bilbo and Balin would all be there too with Fili there to keep her warm...it was a feeling she'd only really had when shitfaced drunk or high as a kite. Unexpectedly, she felt a lump in her throat.

_What would my Great Uncle say now? _She thought distantly. Was this what he meant about 'finding what makes you happy'? It felt almost…

She realised she was fiddling with the locket again. And staring into the fire.

With a sigh, she tucked it hurriedly back into her shirt next to her skin, and stretched.

"We'll still be a little while yet, lass." Bofur said suddenly. "If you want to wander off back to the lads in the meantime."

Senga grinned widely. She was about to move off, when Bofur spoke again.

"If I might ask, though," he said quietly, coming around to her side and picking some of the debris out of her hair. "You and the lads aren't, well…"

It took a moment for her to click to what he meant.

"No!" She hissed indignantly. "I though' we'd established tha'! Plus the fact I wouldn' compromise mine or their honour by bein' so effin' casual about it, wha' d'you take me for?"

"A remarkable and wilful young woman," Bofur said calmly (though not without a sigh of relief). "Who could, I have no doubt, take any lover she chooses."

Now _that _was a different idea.

Entirely.

One that had her train of thought tumbling off the rails in a way she was _definitely _not prepared for.

"There's _nothin'_ goin' on, Bofur." She said firmly, turning to stride pointedly away and gather her scattered wits. "Like anyone in their righ' mind's would wan' me as a lover, anyway."

"What d'you mean by that, lass? Men ought to be lining up for a bonny maid such as yourself, and that's no exaggeration mind. You do yourself a discredit!"

"_Discredit?_" Senga whirled around, still in shock about the abruptness of having this conversation thrust upon her. "I'm mad, scarred, an' who says I _wan' _men to line up? Heirs of Durin or otherwise?"

Bofur blinked.

"We're jus' mates!" She turned to storm away. "An' by mates, I mean friends, Bofur. There's nothin' goin' on!"

_Kili was mad._

And as for her having people want her – having _men want her_ – she hadn't thought about it in a while. She'd dismissed it out of fear and distaste, casting the idea off as quickly as it came, and the last time she'd actually, _seriously _thought about _lovers _was before…before…

_No._

No, she wasn't following that thought. It was bad enough she'd had an episode that night with Thorin, though thankfully it hadn't come up since then. Horrific as it was, she'd come to terms with it – unlike certain other horrors in her head. But it wasn't something she wanted to think about, even with a handful of years since.

_Lovers? Innocence and romance?_

Bit late for that.

The scattered thoughts continued to plague her all the way to the ponies. However, to her dismay, it was raised voices she heard first.

"You know how I feel about her!"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"_Oh_, I don't know, you asking her to 'show you her skills', brother? You don't see any bloody relevance there?"

"What _are_ you _on about?_ You – oh, you _REALLY _think –"

"All this trying to _impress_ her…"

"You're mad, little brother!"

_No arguments there_, Senga thought dryly somewhere behind the sudden fireball of outrage.

"Besides," Fili continued, annoyance lacing exasperation. "Even if I _was _trying to impress her – which I'm _not _– _she turned you down!_"

"That doesn't mean you could pursue her!"

"Why not?"

"Because, because," Kili spluttered, clearly amazed that Fili wasn't getting it. "Because you're _my brother!_"

"What?"

"My _brother!_" he repeated, emphasising the word. "It's just wrong! You don't do that!"

"Kil –"

"The FUCK?"

Both brothers whipped around and winced at the force of her shout. She felt as if her blood was on fire; her skin made of elastic, her eyes the storm that cracks the mountain.

"Okay," she said, voice dangerously calm. "Firstly, Kili's righ' abou' the whole brother thing; he's righ', tha' sort o' thing isn' on. _Secondly_, it's _ACADEMIC _considerin' neither me nor Fili 'ave been _anythin' _but platonic since we started off! And," she said slowly, voice rising finally to bellowing. "Thirdly, you DO NOT get to 'ave THA' conversation WITHOU' ME, you _SELFISH_ PRICKS!"

They had the decency to look ashamed at this, Kili looking downright cowed. They looked genuinely appalled to be on the receiving end of her anger, and she didn't pity them one bit.

"I mean, how DAREyou assume you can _discuss_ who DOES or DOESN' get to court me BEHIN' MY BACK!"

"We didn't mean –"

"NO YOU DIDN', BUT IT DOESN' CHANGE THE FACT THA' YOU WERE!" Senga quickly shut out the burn of unexpected betrayal that loomed in her chest once the words left her mouth.

"We're so sorry, Senga." Kili mumbled, staring dejectedly at the ground. "We didn't mean to upset you."

"You didn' upset me. You insulted me." She corrected bluntly, voice once again even. Kili flinched worse than when she'd shouted. The brothers looked fleetingly at her, and she felt more pangs of emotion. She tried not to let it show on her face, but she was beyond disarmed on the subject – not used to _caring _– and knew some of it bled into the mask. The eldest (and bravest) brother met her eyes and his breath seemed to hitch.

"Then…we are deeply sorry for the insult." Fili said quietly, twisting his hand in a strange gesture over his heart. "If there is any recompense we can offer for this treachery of your trust, Senga, then we will gladly acquiesce."

Senga's tongue froze, paralysing the vicious retort in the face of Fili's words and the remorse plain on both faces. _And they say dwarves have copper tongues…_

"I don' –" She hissed sharply as she cut herself off, arrested in her rant and once again completely lost. Finally, she shut her eyes and growled. "I jus' wan' to trust you two wi' my personal life wi'out you fuckin' _bandyin' _it."

She stalked away, putting herself in the heart of the gaggle of ponies and ramming her back against a stump. Perhaps it was the fact that they were discussing the idea so lightly – or that Kili acted like he had a say in it (even though he had a point about brothers) – but it twanged an already sore nerve. She seethed silently at the pair of them for their lack of actually _thinking_, though she knew in her heart that they hadn't meant to hurt her. Not that they knew why it bothered her so much, _but then why did they need to know? Wasn't it enough that it bothered her?_

Blood thumped in her ears.

_Fuckin' boys_, she thought angrily. She shut her eyes, absently fiddling with the chain again so that the weight bumped against her heart. Proof she had a heart. Couldn't she just like them for _them? _Was it such a fucking chore for everyone to stop _discussing her _and _asking _and _assuming _that just because she was a woman in a company full of men –

"Senga?"

She grunted in response to the call, knowing full well they wouldn't be able to hear her. She wasn't ready to talk to them yet. Or anyone else. She'd just say more things, and this time it'd be things she'd regret. Going over the argument, she came to the interesting conclusion that she'd got off quite lightly for things she would later want to take back. Still, she had literally fed their arses back to them...

_Fucking softie._

Reluctantly, she opened her eyes. She'd have to forgive them eventually. And when she did she'd feel worse than she already did do about how terrible they'd both looked.

_Fuck._

Stretching, the last dregs of annoyance aimed at the bits of wood dug into her back, she stood straight from the stump to take a proper look around.

And froze.

"Senga?"

"…Kili?"

Uncertainly mounted in her voice as she started to move in a slow circle, anger forgotten. The stump she'd leant against wasn't the only one: trees had been ripped up all round the make-shift paddock and the ground had been trampled. Misty snorted as she passed, but Senga paid no attention as she completed her circuit near to where the brothers appeared from the trees.

"Look," Kili started haltingly, but cut short as Senga stepped back to stand directly between the two and grasped his arm.

"Count." She said quietly. Both of them looked bewildered, but quickly obeyed, muttering under their breaths as they took inventory. It took a grand total of thirty seconds before they caught on, glancing quickly between her and the ponies. What concerns they had had minutes before flew out of the proverbial window. Kili gulped.

"Oh."

They each stared ahead as the situation sunk in.

"Oh_ fuck_."

* * *

"_Are you alrigh', Thorin?"_

"_For what reason would I be not so?"_

"_You have yet to speak to Senga."_

"_She seems more than occupied with my _nephews_ at present."_

_Balin was taken aback by the venom in his king's voice._

"_Thorin…?"_

* * *

"_How_ did we _not _notice this?" Senga breathed in disbelief. The brothers were frozen in place on either side of her, their faces a picture of panic. Never mind the circumstances or feelings or regrets – they'd _royally_ fucked up. Soft feet behind them made her look quickly over her shoulder.

"Um…tea?" Bilbo approached balancing three bowls (the third in the crook of his arm) smiling warmly until he caught her expression. "What's wrong, Senga?"

She flicked her eyes back forwards as the hobbit seemed to register all three of them, coming round to their front.

"What's the matter?"

"We're supposed to be looking after the ponies." Kili said in a rush, unsticking his tongue.

"Only…" Senga breathed hard. "…we've encountered a…_slight_ problem…"

"Problem?"

"We had sixteen." Fili said lightly, gesturing across the herd. "And now there's…fourteen."

"Daisy and Bungo are missing." Senga strode purposefully into the middle and made another sweep, eyes skinned for the slightest sign as Bilbo trailed after her. There was no shortage of evidence for something having happened, now they were looking properly, however it was all confused. Some of the trees were torn up; others untouched – and the rest of the ponies were casually not paying the least attention to them, despite missing two of their number. Couldn't they have just wandered off? Bilbo's brows drew quickly together, mouth opening as he looked round in her wake.

"That's not good. That is_ not_ good at all – when did this happen?"

Both brothers looked sheepishly at Senga.

"Well, you did shout rather loudly..." Fili tried to smile a little, as if it had been a minor squabble. Senga scoffed frustratedly.

"You still fuckin' deserved tha', the pair o' you." She finished with her hands on her hips, trying to quell the sense of mounting panic.

"Oh blimey," Bilbo murmured, face mirroring her feelings. "Shouldn't we tell Thorin?"

"Ah –" Fili looked slightly mortified as he glanced between his brother and Senga. None of them fancied explaining exactly why they hadn't been paying attention to the job they'd been charged with.

"– let's not worry him with this." Kili said in an attempt to be reassuring, glancing nervously at Senga. "Come to think of it," he added on a sudden inspiration. "As our official burglar, we were thinking…_you_ might want to look into it."

"Well, uh…" Bilbo stuttered as Kili wrapped an arm around his shoulders with the shadow of a smirk. "Uh, uh some-something big uprooted these trees."

"Well no shi' Sherlock."

"Something very big," Bilbo continued more confidently, jaw stiffening like a disgruntled parent at her swearing. "Possibly…quite dangerous."

His poise fell again as he seemed to catch up with what he was staying. All four of them paused to let it sink in, Senga glancing at Kili only to find that he looked just as worried. It hit her then that this was the first time that there had potentially been real trouble since they'd started. She didn't fear death or pain, it was true, but she still had no idea how she would react in a real situation – if her inexperience would cost her.

She felt fear curl around her heart. Fear of _disappointing_. Or, worse, causing one of the others to compromise their positions. In an encounter with real danger, she would never forgive herself if she caused _others _to die.

Her hand strayed to her chest. Balin had said _it_ would lead her true. To be honest, she was more worried about the reach of her arm than her heart at this_ precise_ moment. Her other hand went to the pommel of her short sword, begging her thoughts to stay calm. The knowledge that she had to stay lucid for Fili and Kili whetted her senses like a grindstone.

_She would not fail them._

_Or anyone else, really, for a number of reasons, but she would not endanger _them.

The third thoughts in the back of her mind pondered the sudden revelation that she cared about someone enough to want to protect them. _Three someones, including Bilbo. _It wasn't an entirely unpleasant feeling. Alien, though, and it gave her the senses of a prowling cat: every smell was a chemical dictionary, every sound a gunshot.

Which was how she saw the light.

"Hey," she hissed, beckoning as she locked onto the glow flickering through the leaves.

"Stay down." Fili pushed her shoulder down to prove his point as the four of them crept closer to the source. The blonde went ahead, then beckoned for them crouch behind a fallen log. Harsh, guttural voices were beginning to reach them from the direction of the light, more and more unmistakable now for a fire. Fili and Kili tensed.

"What is it?"

Senga could hear her breath moving her hair.

"Trolls." Kili spat, eyes ablaze.

"Wonderful."

The calmness in Senga's voice bordered on the insane as the other three turned to stare.

"So," she turned, goosebumps all over her skin. "Wha' d'we do now?"

"Shhh!"

Kili grabbed her arm, eyes wide as his head whipped around. Not a moment later, a crashing rent through the forest and a creature like walking boulders lumbered past, _alarmingly_ close to their hiding place. Fili hissed slightly, shrinking back with Bilbo. She registered Kili clinging to her almost painfully as she saw the flash of beige and dappled white under the troll's arm. The ponies where whinnying in panic. Surprisingly, it was Bilbo who recovered first.

"He's got Myrtle and Minty!" He gasped, outraged. "I think they're going to eat them…"

Senga eased back up (towing Kili with her) and gazed off in the direction of the troll's fire. Now the initial shock of the situation was starting to wear off, she gritted her teeth into the problem – and nearly growled in frustration. _Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck, ohfuckohfuckohfuck…_the three of them were _so fucking dead!_ And what were they supposed to do? Walk up and ask _politely_ justfor the ponies to be returned _thankyousoveryfuckingmuch_?

"We have to do something!"

Kili's head snapped up. Senga thought vaguely that he was in danger of breaking his own neck, but he seemed enthusiastic this time.

"Yes! You should!"

"N-n-no-n –"

Bilbo looked utterly bewildered.

"They'll never see you!"

"Are you fuckin' serious?"

"Mountain trolls are slow and stupid, and you're so small. It's perfectly safe!" Kili insisted, divesting Bilbo of the dinner bowls he'd somehow managed to hold onto and steering him round. "We'll be right behind you." He added, nodding vigorously. Bilbo blanched. Fili nodded in agreement.

"If you run into trouble," he said calmly. "Hoot twice like a barn owl and once like a brown owl."

The brothers pushed him out of the underbrush, Senga rolling her eyes emphatically and trying not to hit them upside the head.

"Twice like a barn owl, twice like a brown…once like a brown…"

Senga snagged Kili as they went back to her, watching as his eyes filled suddenly with concern. As embarrassing as the whole thing was – as unwilling as she was to have to face the rest of the company – fuck that if it meant putting _Bilbo_ in the sole line of fire. Feeling as if her eyes were pulsing, she yanked his face to hers and hissed in his ear.

"Get help."

Fili had to supress a yelp of alarm, but there was nothing either of them could do as she shoved Kili back and scrambled to join Bilbo.

"…once like a brown owl…are you sure this is a good idea?"

Silence. Bilbo huffed exasperatedly, but near jumped out of his skin as Senga patted his shoulder.

"Good grief, you –"

"Hush!"

They crept towards the fire. Senga prayed the brothers wouldn't be too long in fetching the cavalry. She didn't know much about these situations, but she had the feeling they could turn nasty _very _quickly. Still, as they got closer, she had to admit Kili had had a point about their likelihood of being seen. Up close, the three behemoths looked more like they'd been moulded out of pressed grape pips and mouldy porridge (the smell they gave off contributing to her imagination). And if their conversation was anything to go by, their brains didn't exactly improve on the base material. They were arguing about food with the finesse of thick ten year olds given too much time watching daytime cooking programmes on the telly.

Bilbo spotted a roped pen and together they carefully approached the ponies. For their treatment, they didn't look too harmed, Myrtle blowing affectionately into Bilbo's palm when he reached out his hand. Senga rolled her eyes at the display, creeping round to the edge of the ropes just in time to see one of the trolls bash the other in the face with a ladle.

"Senga?"

She turned swiftly back to the hobbit. He was gesturing at the ropes, drawing his hand across them until she caught on to his plan. She frowned. Crouching as low as possible, she drew her short sword as slowly and carefully as possibly. The _snick _make the troll called Bert momentarily look up, sniffing the air, and the two froze in mid action. Senga's heart beat a mile a minute, but after a moment, Bert sniffed in dismissal and went back to balancing the stock. Her eyes met Bilbo's as the two breathed out in relief, hastily continuing with what they were doing.

Her sword was sharp and well made, but the ropes were thick and their encrusted filth only served to make them slick and tough. It took an excruciatingly long moment of frustration to cut through the upper layer, a sweat breaking on her brow as she concentrated hard. It gave, but at the cost of a creaking sound made by the rough wood posts.

The trolls paused.

Bilbo was starting to panic, muttering under his breath as she worked frantically. They'd been there _far _too long, and they both knew it, heedless of the sudden restless movement by the fire as they fought to complete the job.

"Go." She hissed breathlessly. Bilbo scowled and refused to budge. No…actually, he did budge. He backed off round to the edge of the pen, just as one of the trolls got up to inspect their catch. It was only a small mercy the dumb thing had its back to Bilbo as the hobbit scrambled to try and reverse his movement, eyes wide.

Senga gave up. All hell was about to break loose, for there was literally nowhere for Bilbo to go. Any second now the troll would turn round and see them both – and likely break all their bones before eating them. It wasn't exactly a _pleasant_ way to go.

Breathing desperately, she tried to think of something, _anything _that would save them; hide them. Nothing presented itself. They were dead. Or horribly injured, anyway; they were –

"Ah!"

Bilbo yelped as the troll reached behind him and blindly grabbed, just in time to catch the sneeze that exploded from the creature like a minor typhoon. Senga could only stare as Bilbo lay in the troll's hand, stiff from shock, covered from head to foot in troll snot.

A part (much larger than she would ever admit to having) wanted to laugh.

"Ahh! Blimey – Bert! Bert! Look what's come out of me 'ooter! It's got arms and legs and everyfink!"

"Wot is it?"

Senga tried to shrink into the ponies as the trolls gathered round. She knew she had to do something, but for some reason her mind had gone ludicrously blank.

_Come on_, she thought urgently. _Think. Think!_

"I don't know!" The troll holding Bilbo wailed. "But I don't like the way this one looks real!"

Senga winced as the hobbit hit the ground, but he quickly found his feet. She took the opportunity to dive back into the undergrowth, shielded from sight and at last able to move about in the commotion. The trolls were confused – surprised, even – and Bilbo was doing a decent job of adlibbing, but it could only go so far. She scrambled round as he tried to dodge the creatures, skirting the firelight with loping bounds. She heard his yelp as they caught him; felt the breath arrest in her mouth, but she was still moving, _thinking. Where was the fucking cavalry?_

She realised, in a moment of sweet clarity, that they would not reach them in time. Not with Bilbo dangling and about to be tortured for trying to protect their location.

Fear evaporated as anger filled her breast, white hot and blazing.

She stepped into the firelight and, pausing only to wish she didn't suddenly have a headache, bellowed.

"OI!" The clearing froze. "Pu' him down NOW!"

"You wot?"

"Who the FUCK d'you think you are grabbin' him? Drop him!"

The trolls looked utterly bewildered, even cowed slightly. Senga had a fleeting thought of herself in a blue and white dress ordering a hatter and hare about manners. Oh, the trimmings of being a woman on a mission when you're pissed…

Unfortunately, it didn't last. The one called Bert growled low in his lumpy throat and started to advance, unphased by the thunder in her face.

"Knew he was lyin'!" He said triumphantly. "So wot's this then? An undersized wolfling? A little one sharpening it's teeth? Now that's a pritty mouf-full!"

"Wolfli – have you ever met a wolf, you thick fuck?"

"Can we cook it?"

Bert made a lunge towards her, but she sidestepped it easily, hissing like an angry cat. She tried desperately to keep that anger in focus, but fear edged its way in, forcing her to falter. The troll smirked evilly.

BIG mistake.

Without even thinking, she leapt, sword in hand, towards his face and swiped. She'd been aiming for his eyes, but instead hit the nose as the troll reacted. Black blood splattered over his face, but it was a fleeting image as she ducked his arms. She was fairly certain the blood had gone in her face as well, but she barely felt it as she fought her way back into a defensible pose. Bert was as slow as he was stupid – and to her disappointment, she'd barely scratched him – but suddenly she was stood before them once more and still hadn't a clue what to do.

Bilbo was watching her with wide eyes as the blood rushed to his head, squirming against the beast holding his ankles.

"Drop him!"

"An' why would we do tha – _aargg!_"

"SHE _SAID _DROP HIM!"

Kili appeared at her side with a fire in his eyes she'd never seen there before. Bert clutched at the back of his knee as the two stood shoulder to shoulder, too intent on the situation to do more than glance at each other. The sheer _relief _she actually felt though –

The troll roared and threw Bilbo right at them. Senga had barely enough time to leap to the side as Kili caught him, sending the pair of them sprawling to the floor. Bert charged without pausing, teeth bearing down on them – on _her _specifically. She was the only one still standing and stuck her blade out from her body (the good _that _would do). The concept of being cracked in half had barged rudely into her head, but with the other two tangled on the ground, she could hardly leave them.

She met Bert's eyes. _Oh SHIT…_

Suddenly the clearing was full of people as what seemed like the entire company charged through the trees. Blades flashed and hammers cracked like thunderclaps as the dwarves fell upon them, mincing the air and drawing shrieks of pain and fright from the trolls. Caught up in the chaos, Senga tried to make sense of what was going on – quickly discovering that standing still and gawping in the middle of a battle _wasn't _the best strategy. Dwalin practically screamed at her as he swung his hammer, forcing her to leap backwards and trip embarrassingly over her own feet as he smashed a troll in the face. His glare set her face burning with shame as he stomped to his next target, ducking and weaving through everyone else like some bizarre dancer.

"Senga!"

Her head whipped around and she scrambled to get to her feet to join Fili, face still red. She could still do little when she got there, the reach of her little sword being practically useless against enemies more than ten feet tall. She tried though; tried to remember everything her Great Uncle taught her, but it was useless. She was graceless and knew it, unable to find the magical 'openings' in which to land her blows. In the end, she just flailed about uncertainly, dodging as best she could and swiping hopelessly at their enemy.

Luckily for her, everyone else was too occupied to notice keenly. And by all the good graces, they weren't doing nearly as badly as her. The trolls were being hounded; forced back at every turn. The dwarves worked together to bring them down to size, though it was a gruelling task with their sheer bulk and outrageously thick skins. Fili and Kili worked as a seamless unit beside her. It was almost beautiful; their dynamic together as they hacked and slashed and ducked.

Suddenly she saw it. An opportunity. It was stupid, reckless, probably wouldn't work and if the troll noticed even slightly she was in for a world of hurt. But fuck it. At this point she was so utterly sick of being inadequate, she was prepared to take anything she could get.

So she lunged forward, taking advantage of the troll's sudden undivided attention on the brothers, and jumped.

Someone shouted. In fact, someone screamed her name and she realised only halfway through leaping through the air that she'd left her back _completely_ exposed. But there was no time to think about that – no time to do more than force her entire weight into the attack and sink her blade deep into the join of the troll's neck.

For a second, she thought it had worked. The troll shrieked in shock and agony as she clung to the handle of her knife. But she saw suddenly that it hadn't gone nearly deep enough (compounded by the shortness of her knife in the first place) and realised too late that hanging there had been a horrible mistake. A hand flailed blindly at the wound and all but ripped her into the air. In her panic, she kept a hold of the blade. Another shriek sounded, as well as a sickening squelch as it slid out of flesh. She cried out as the hand squeezed, even as she flailed her sword to reach its arm.

Blood rushed into her ears as she felt her breath leave. She tried to see what she was doing; screaming through her teeth as she forced the crushed muscles to contract and point the blade into its hand. Then she was falling, the pressure gone before being replaced with the thump of gravity catching up.

She couldn't breathe. She was overtaken by a fit of coughing before she could register someone half-carrying her away to the size. She'd only been in the trolls grip a few seconds, yet it felt like being blended, and the blood refused to drain from her eyes.

"SENGA?"

"I'm fine," she choked. "My head's buzzin', bu' I'm okay!"

Her eyes focussed to find Kili staring at her, wild-eyed. A moment later, she realised she'd managed to _a)_ distract him, _b) _tear him away from his brother and _c) _make herself a burden in the middle of a _fucking battle! _Whollydisgusted with herself, she yanked her body back to attention and lurched back to find Fili, anger fuelling her blood in the absence of oxygen. _FUCKING HEADACHES!_

Behind her, Kili started to say something, but now she knew she could _actually_ not do any worse, she thought nothing of taking several swipes to one of the troll's legs, two of them actually hitting. Gloin eyed her in surprise. Kili was suddenly beside her again, eyes wide with anxiety, when bedlam erupted without warning. Bodies moved, weapons flashed, and Senga tried to make sense of it. Seemingly without cause, they were all standing abruptly still before the trolls, Senga fighting the urge to vomit as her headache thumped against lurching to a halt.

Then she blanched.

"Bilbo!" Kili started desperately forward, but Senga grabbed the back of his coat even as Thorin threw an arm across his chest.

"Lay down your arms!" Bert ordered menacingly. "Or we'll wip 'is off!"

Senga could feel Kili's frantic breathing as she clung to him, casting a look at Bert that ought to have crumbled him to dust. His attention was not on her, however, and Thorin was glaring as much at Bilbo as at the troll. Senga looked to hobbit, seeing true, raw horror bleed over his features for the first time. It rent something in her chest like a gunshot, and she had to grit her teeth to keep her face from contorting. She looked a Thorin. He was irritated beyond belief – galled beyond belief at the audacity of the trolls to threaten _them._ But in the depths of his blazing eyes was real anger as he did the unbelievable and stuck his sword hard into the ground.

The rest of the weapons hit the dirt – including hers – but she was far from concentrating on her short sword. Kili pulled her hands into his over his shoulders as she stared at Thorin, knowing she _never _wanted to have that anger directed at her.

In the meantime, her head thumped in time with her heart.

_The FUCK was plan B?_

* * *

**_A.N: So...this is what happens when I get caught up in building tension again. Sort of needed to be done though, because i want to develop Senga in a certain way for the romance sub-plot now I've established her and Kili. The downside is IT'S SO FUCKING LONG! It's impossible to interrupt an action sequence in motion, and this one took ages since it all progressed seamlessly from one 'shot' (or so I think of them) to the next. Like, if it was filmed, the shots could theoretically follow Senga the whole way round rather than having to skip for time._**

**_Anyway, SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG! It's tricky when you get stuck and distracted at the same time..._**

**_The title is a play on the saying 'a storm in a teacup' and is meant to describe the various conflicts and animosity of this chapter, as well as the consequences for everyone else and the building plot of the adventure. I addition, explaining the plot hole of what the hell Fili and Kili could've been doing that meant they missed TROLLS nicking the ponies. Just cos._**

**_I always like hearing what you think - or just having my ego stroked (as danniidazed put it). More reviews, pointers and thoughts, precious! We likes them so much!_**


	9. The Complications with Insanity

_**Chapter Eight**_

**The Complications with Insanity**

Being shoved in a sack with excessive enthusiasm by the troll (whose name was apparently William) she'd so recently stuck with her knife, wasn't in the top ten of experiences she'd try again. That it didn't make it to the _bottom_ ten spoke volumes about the hell she'd lived in prior to her Great Uncle's rescue.

In any case, she couldn't suppress crying out as her head hit the ground.

"Grow some balls, already!" Someone shouted above her. The voice resolved itself into Dwalin's and she fought the urge to throw up on his feet to shut him up. Not that she wouldn't have done it, but she was stuck against Kili's side and unable to move. It didn't help that he was wriggling like mad.

"Kili!" she eventually shouted over the din, eyes screwed shut. "If you don' stop moving abou', I will _fuckin' kick you in the bollocks!"_

_That_ stilled him. Somewhere, absurdly, she heard Fili's snort. The rest of the dwarves were either hurling insults or screaming to be let go. Cracking her eyes open caused pain to shoot through her eyeballs and she had to slam them shut again, her head thumping to the point she had to swallow back a whimper. In the din, she growled through gritted teeth and forced her body to roll face down. With her elbows, she scrunched her whole body and tried to drag herself forward, but made it mere inches before the sacking caught around her neck. A strangled, gurgling noise tore past her teeth and forced her back to the floor.

"Senga?"

Balin's voice was somewhere above her on her left, but she couldn't open her eyes to find it. Spitting dirt out of her mouth, she tried again, only to have the same problem. This time she made it further, though, and writhing a bit loosened the feeling round her neck. Emboldened, she shoved her way forward – crashing painfully into Dwalin – and forced her knees up. To her relief, the sack didn't slip, and she was actually most of the way to getting to her feet before Bert noticed.

"Oi! Stop figitin'!"

"Ooh! Ooh – is that the wolfling?"

"Get down!"

Senga braced herself for the hand that came her way, having neither the strength nor space to move out of the way. She didn't fear pain. She did, however, feel it and in her dizziness she hadn't quite anticipated the force Bert would use. He walloped her collar bone, drawing a grunt of pain as it sent her back towards the pile. She saw her sack sprawl over Oin's legs before an impact to the back of her skull sent blackness spiralling through her vision.

"Senga?"

She could no longer tell which way was up or down.

"Senga!"

Logically, she could only have caught the edge of the rocks due to the simple fact she was still conscious. It hurt like hell, though. She felt like she'd acquired the rock on the inside of her head, spiking muscle and bone. The hiss was lost in the voices of the rest of the dwarves, but Oin and the others closest must have heard. She heard her name – _was that Balin? _But though her brain was currently making sense of nothing, she knew the voice was too deep for Balin. _Dwalin? _He wouldn't give a fucking rat's arse except to complain about where her knees had recently been. Bofur was currently on the spit. As was Dori. Bilbo was currently too far in front of her, as were Fili and Kili.

_So who was shouting? _She couldn't think of anyone else. Her mind turned sluggishly, trying to shy away from the pain and wooziness that threatened to crush her head. It thought of Kili holding her in the rain before she caught herself and growled at her stupidity. The image was comforting, but fuck all it was going to do now. Her strength was leaving – she was so _tired. _The darkness dragged like a physical weight…

…e_yes that shone in the dark like the night sky reflected in a pond. Eyes that looked at her with depths like the dungeons of a mountain….that pierced the darkness inside her head – _

"Senga!"

With a groan that was closer to a howl, she forced her body up. Her view when she opened her eyes was obscured by a fall of long, dark hair, its owner propped into a gap in the rock. The King Under the Mountain was scowling at her, but there was concern evident in the way he was straining to see her better. The eyes that had flashed across her addled brain were suddenly staring right at her, intense as the heart of the sun.

Any other moment and the sight would've disturbed her beyond words; annoyed her._ Filled her with inexplicable panic._ She _hated _that look. Like he was trying to splice her open. But right now it was the only thing she had that wasn't spinning, and she made for it, crawling like a spastic leech over Oin. The older dwarf spluttered and complained loudly, but Senga ignored him. Thorin muttered something, swearing under his breath as she faltered dangerously, but didn't break eye contact. Not once.

"Come on," He growled, but her eyes screwed suddenly shut again. "Senga?"

She didn't respond. The world was kaleidoscoping.

"Senga?"

"I can' breathe."

Black and red spots danced in her eyes and she shuddered to a halt near Thorin's navel. In the back of her head, she spared a thought for the monumentally awkward position she'd managed to contort herself into. _She couldn't see and the world was slipping away…_

"Qi'yah!" She half screamed, pain lancing through her side as he shoved her awake. "Bastard!"

"Come on!"

Breathing hard, she half strangled herself again to move, strings of half-garbled expletives lost to the surrounding noise. Thorin hissed in frustration, eyes burning. Emotion passed through him faster than she could catch, and they were struggling together; writhing. Her body – especially her head – shrieked at her to stop, for they were covering mere _inches _of the distance between them.

The fuck if _that _ever stopped Senga.

* * *

"If you would _just_ –"

"SHUT UP! _SHUT UP!_ FUCK! Ngh…"

"Senga –"

"Oi! Give it up, the pair of ye!"

"_Senga!"_

_She's going to pass out again, _Balin thought privately as the girl surged upwards over and over again in an attempt to reach Thorin. Thorin who was moving in such a way that in any other situation the king would've looked _beyond_ ridiculous. Actually he _did _look ridiculous. Balin felt nearly sorry for the sheer humiliation Thorin would have felt if he'd paid a thought to his audience.

Except then there was that look in his eyes. A look that alternated between desperation and fury every few seconds until it made Balin quite dizzy to behold it. Well he was certainly doing a _very good job_ of denying so much as noticing the girl now. The pair were thrashing like beached whales and Balin caught his brother looking over with mixed disbelief and disgust, temporarily silenced. Oin was trying _not _to watch, wincing every time Senga caught his knees through the sack and Fili and Kili were covering the commotion by twisting desperately to try and see.

The entire scene would've been laughable had the threat not been deadly serious.

"Buggeri'!"

"Laddie, give it up!"

But, Thorin had rarely ever listened to him (or anyone else) when his mind set to a task. _Or his heart to an end – _however much he clearly wished it were not so. It took minutes, in which time Senga's face grew progressively more and more grey, despite the flush of exertion. Balin began to worry earnestly that she'd do herself serious harm if she kept it up, but then there was stillness. Thorin relaxed with such relief that Balin would barely have believed it of him the moment Senga rolled groaning onto his shoulder.

He whispered something into her hair. His eyes were strained and there was a look that betrayed him for a second. Senga didn't see it, eyes shut and panting, but the rest of them did. It was gone a moment later, the reactions from the company suggesting that most clearly thought it was imagined by them. Dwalin let out a frustrated bark and a curse that had them all yelling at the trolls again.

Thorin glanced suddenly in his direction, face like a granite wall.

"Thank you." Balin muttered, knowing that, though he probably hadn't heard, Thorin had at least seen the words form in his mouth. His expression didn't change even slightly.

* * *

"Little fool." He murmured. Her hair shifted with his breath.

"Fuck."

She drifted far enough back into consciousness to realise she'd just mumbled the cuss against his neck. The sacking was rough to her cheek, but the warmth of his body reached her through it and softened the jarring pain.

"Feeling better?" The question was purely utilitarian, but it was oddly comforting to Senga to hear those words in his voice. _Why was that? _It was frustrating, but that same comfort was guiding her back to cognisance and she had not the strength to fight it. Thorin's chest rose and fell below her right ear, setting a steady rhythm.

"Senga?"

She opened her eyes, and met his through the haze. They were schooled into a closed mask, but their scrutiny was like fire. She realised dimly that he'd looked at her more in one day than he had for the better part of a week. Even before that he'd been able to look her in the eye, if only to scowl. Had he been avoiding looking? Since the dream it had been the last thing on her mind…

_Why do you even _care?

"_You've got to care." Said Captain Kirk to a young girl named Miri on a parallel earth. Why did she _have_ to care? What was so _important_ about caring? Caring hurt…_

"Senga!" The shoulder moved under her. "Stay awake." He added softly. She frowned. Was that fear? Her mind was too muddied to process things properly. She stirred curiously, watching Thorin catch himself as she came awake and yank back the scowl.

_No fucking sense…_

"Any brigh' ideas?" She said suddenly, unwilling to make her head hurt more.

"Well seeing how this entire incident is really _your _fault, I was hoping you could tell _me_." He responded caustically.

"_My _fault? An' wha' exactly could we 'ave done otherwise – taken on three trolls by ourselves whilst on watch?"

His arm twitched harshly. It was a motion he tried to cover a moment later – like he did every slip – but Senga was too close _not _to notice. _The fuck was that?_

"We might have been on less open ground!" he said finally, voice strangely strained.

"_Righ',_" she said sarcastically. "An' in the meantime?"

"It's time for the basting!"

Senga flicked her head up, their situation coming rapidly back into focus.

"_Aww_, I'm hungry now! Why are we wasting time? Let's just scoff 'em!"

"'cos _I'm_ the cook!"

Thorin let out a growl of tortured frustration.

"Why are we even bothering to cook 'em? Let's just sit on them now!" Said the third troll suddenly. "And…squish 'em into jelly!"

"They'll be sautéed and grilled," Bert asserted firmly. "With a sprinkle of sage." He added dreamily. Senga stared slack-jawed at the chef apparent, trying to work out if she'd ever been in a situation so _utterly ludicrous_. _Trying not to be distracted by the warmth still cradling her head…_

"Ooh…that does sound quite nice."

"Who cares about the seasoning? We ain't got all night! Dawn ain't far away, so let's just get a move on. I don't fancy being turned to stone."

Senga froze.

Thorin stared bewildered at the sudden look in her eyes, but one glance at Bilbo told her he'd hand exactly the same thought. With some difficulty, he managed to do what Bert had caught Senga in the middle of doing earlier and hauled himself to his feet.

"Wait!" He shouted, voice far more confident than he looked. "You're making a _terrible _mistake."

"You can't reason with them, they're halfwits!"

"Halfwits? What does that make _us?_"

"I meant with the, uh," the hobbit made to jump closer, still bound in the sack. "With, uh, with the seasoning."

"Wot about the seasoning?"

"Well, have you smelt them?" Bilbo said exasperatedly. "You're going to need something stronger than sage before you plate this lot up!"

"_What?!_" Kili yelped shrilly.

Dwalin roared something that sounded like _"TRATOR!" _and viciously kicked his ankles. Senga groaned, battered brain centrifuging as she tried to think of a way to help.

"Wot d'you know about cooking dwarf?"

"Shut up!" Bert said quickly, eyes alight. "And let the, uh, flurgaburburbahobbit talk."

Bilbo blanched.

_This should be good, _Senga thought dully.

"Uh, th –" he stuttered. "The secret to cooking dwarf is, um…"

"Yes? Come on!"

"Is, uh…"

"Tell us the secret!"

"Yes, yes – _I'm telling you the secret!"_

"Yes?"

"The secret is…" Bilbo's face contorted with concentration "…is to…skin them first!"

"Oh, _genius!_" Senga yelled sarcastically over the sudden outcry of panic and rage. "Seriously, gold medal and a fuckin' star for all hobbit cooks!"

"Wot a load of wubbish!" The troll on the spit scowled suspiciously at Bilbo. Unfortunately, she hadn't realised quite how well she'd made herself heard until Bert turned beady eyes in her direction. Thorin tensed beneath her.

"Wot would you do then, wolfling?" he hissed menacingly.

"I'm no' a wolfing!" She managed to sound indignant even as her heart raced. _The worst he could do was break her bones or kill her. _That wasn't all that frightening if she didn't let it be. Harder to ignore was the sudden terror that she'd prove Dwalin right about being bollockless and make things worse. Yet, as Thorin groaned in frustration next to her ear, she had an idea.

"Of course I know 'ow to cook!" She claimed irately. "I'm a _girl._"

Part of her wanted to kill the other part and then die from embarrassment, but by the look on Bert's face she'd struck gold.

"An' I'll 'ave you kno'," she continued proudly. "Cookin' dwarf's the easiest thing in the world if you kno' how!"

Every dwarf stared at her in complete shock. Bert's face, however, lit up as he pulled her sack bodily upwards and dumped her on her feet before the three of them. Someone shouted behind her, but everything blended together and she found it difficult to disentangle the insults. Dwalin's calling her something sounding suspiciously like "_Gundabad whore_" made her want to kick the shit out of him, but she had more pressing concerns.

"Well, go on then!" Bert insisted, snapping her attention back to him.

"It's all in the preparation." She said patiently, trying to calm her fraying nerves. "You've gotta marinade to ge' them all soft and flavoured."

"Marinade?" he said, both disbelieving and disappointed.

"Yeah! Rosemary, pumpkin seeds, bone stock –"

_Oh, Aunty Evelyn would be so proud of me right now…_

"Ooh, and a lovey dash of squirrel dung!"

"Wot about 'em being crunchy!" The other demanded.

"Well, tha's why you fry them afte' marinating! Makes them lovely an' crispy!"

"_CRISPY?!_" Kili's continued protests made her want to include him in the shit-kicking, but the sudden sensation of being grabbed had her attention completely diverted.

"Why marinate 'em?" the troll-that-wasn't-Bert-or-William gave her a look of raw hunger that made her skin crawl. "Why not just fry 'em now?"

"Shove 'er in the coals!" William piped up excitedly.

Senga tried to struggle, but the bruises burned through her chainmail. All three trolls seemed to have decided, as much as she tried to protest – and swear and shout. It hit her hard that she was about to be burned alive, and she screamed in frustration as she struggled.

_She was NOT going to die here! NOT on the hot plate of a FUCKING troll encampment!_

"No, not that one!" Bilbo yelped suddenly, voice high with panic. "She-she's infected!"

"_Wha'?!_" Senga gaped at him.

"Wot are you talking about, flobbit?"

"She's got worms!" Senga looked at him as if he'd spoken Flemish. "In her…tubes!"

Senga would've said something extremely rude had all the breath not been knocked out of her the next instant as she hit the ground. She spluttered as the trolls gave her a wide berth and rounded on Bilbo.

"In-in fact they all have," he continued, looking relived. "They're infested with parasites. It's a terrible business – I wouldn't risk it, I really wouldn't."

"_Parasites?_"

"We don't 'ave parasites! _You _'ave parasites!"

Senga twisted frantically. The dwarves were in a state of utter confusion – until comprehension dawned on Thorin's face. Eyes locking briefly with hers – _eyes that were suddenly, determinably calm – _he stretched his legs and kicked Kili with a loud thump.

The whole company looked to him, and then back to the trolls.

"I've go' parasites as big as my arm!" Oin confirmed suddenly.

"Mine are the biggest parasites!" Kili yelped. "I've got huge parasites!"

"We're riddled!" It was the troll's turn to be confused, though Senga realised they were clawing for every second.

_A flash of grey, moving swiftly through the trees…_

_Oh, thank fuck._

"Wot would you 'ave us do? Let 'em all go?"

"Well…"

"You think I don't know wot you're up to?"

_Come on, come on, come on…_

"This little ferret is taking us for fools!"

"_Ferret?_"

"_Fools?_"

"Oh _my._" She spat sarcastically. The trolls turned back to her as one. It was just the look; the hard, hungry look that told her they were done listening. Senga felt fear flare. They had seconds. Bert reached for the knife, knocking Bilbo away, and –

"The dawn will take you all!"

Her heart was hammering so fast it was stopping her from drawing breath. Gandalf stood upon the rock, tall as the sky against the light behind, and surveyed the scene.

"Who's that?"

"No idea."

"Can we eat 'im too?"

_Crack._

The trolls screamed as the clearing flooded with light, blasting their flesh into a shade like slate. They writhed, contorted, and then stilled. For a moment, Senga just stared at the grotesque statues, adrenaline searing through her.

_Was that _it?

Someone laughed. A second later she realised it was Kili.

"Oh, for fuck's sake." She breathed, letting out a great huff of held breath before sprawling backwards. The relief was _palpable_. It was like she was mildly drunk. She wanted to lie back and giggle insanely until someone shook her out of it. The dwarves were cheering, swearing, and generally making as much noise as before whilst Gandalf made his way down to them.

"Nasty business." He muttered as his shadow fell of her. "Are you well, Miss Senga?"

"_Fuckin' hey!_"

He smiled wryly.

"I'll take that as a yes." He bent and cut the sack's cords. With much flailing, she managed to tip herself out with similar grace to potatoes and kicked the material away. She lay panting slightly in the warm, early-morning sun, fighting a wave of fatigue and giggling. Would it be so bad if she slept now?

_Sleep penalties on a daylight ambush: minus two dexterity and a times two backstab._

_Fuck it._

* * *

_All he could do was grin like an idiot as Gandalf set about freeing them. When had he ever been so relieved to see the wizard?_

_His eyes fell to the girl. Her hair was shining in the sunlight even as he tried to ignore the sight. He was relieved and furious in equal measures and it actually hurt to be so much a battle ground. It hurt to feel the shaky rhythm of his heart in the knowledge of how many times it had so recently (and traitorously) stopped. It hurt to remember the brutal loss of her breath on his neck..._

* * *

"'ey, Senga, you can't sleep here!"

"Fuck off."

"Come on!"

A tangle of golden hair obscured her view as the dwarf coaxed her to her feet, blue eyes turning swiftly to concern as he eyed the back of her head.

"You're bleeding!"

"I'm fine." She smiled widely as Kili joined his brother. "It's jus' a cut."

"It's all matted!"

"Look, if it was bad, I wouldn' 'ave stayed awake. I mus' a' jus' nicked it."

She winced involuntarily as her skull throbbed.

"You should let Oin see it." Kili said without skipping a beat. "It'll get nasty if it gets infected."

"He's right."

"_Fine._" She grumbled wearily. "You two are like mother hens, you kno' tha'?" The pair grinned brilliantly. Kili wrapped her up in a tight hug, before pulling back with an arm still slung around her shoulder, leading them back to the rest of the dwarves.

* * *

_It hurt more than he was _ever _prepared to admit that the arms now embracing her sinewy body were Kili's. All up together, the thoughts pierced his heart with the mercy of an orc arrow. She was laughing – laughing with his nephews – and he had to stamp on the emotions rearing their heads so as not to_ feel _the raw, unwanted jealousy._

_The company so far freed were helping him out of the sack. Dwalin gave him a withering look that could only have been mistaken if he was as blind as concussed bee. _

_Smug bastard. _

_He wanted to say something – to vent his frustrations to the ear of his friend and have him listen without expecting him to be in command of the situation._

_But they didn't have the luxury of that. Not now, and not in the near future. So he did what he did best when these sorts of situations arose. He shoved it firmly to the back of his mind._

* * *

"It's jus' a little scratch."

"Told you!"

Oin thrust a white cloth in her direction as they set about retrieving their equipment (and re-dressing in some cases).

"Keep it nice and clean and it should be fine."

"Thanks."

"You sure you're alright?"

"Kili, I'm fine." She wetted the cloth and hissed slightly as it rasped over the wound. "All head wounds bleed."

He shifted sheepishly until Fili poked him still. They were about ready to leave – despite none of them having any sleep at all – but the mood was at least light in the glow of their near-miss. Blibo found them a moment later (fussing even more than Kili) to tell them that they'd apparently found the troll's cave.

"Grea'!" Senga couldn't resist grinning insanely. "All we need no' is a secon' hand shop an' a level up!"

"You know," Fili said absently as they ambled over. "One of these days, you're going to 'ave to tell us what all of that means."

"You said it's a game?" Kili looked torn between excitement and worry for her sanity.

"It's like pretend adventurin' wi' chance decidin' whether or no' you succeed in an action."

"_Pretend?_"

"Wi' proper rules."

The stench preceded the cave by several hundred yards. It hit the four of them at the same time, each wrinkling their noses as they approached. Flies set a buzz round the entrance, and Senga couldn't blame them. The smell was like someone had dug out the contents of a sewer and poured them over a large rubbish tip with a number dead bodies thrown in for colour. Bilbo choked, obviously not wanting to go _any_ closer. And though both were trying to look stoic and un-girly, a glance left and right told her that neither brother really wanted to either.

Senga shrugged, and left them at the mouth.

She'd dispensed with being squeamish the morning she'd woken up in someone_ else's _vomit. Not her proudest moment and an experience that _did _make it into her bottom ten. She shuddered at the memory – and the state she was in at the time – stumbling over the jumble of mud, bones and junk. Bofur gave her a look of concern, he Gloin, Nori, Thorin and even Gandalf seemingly surprised she'd braved the filth. She raised an eyebrow, daring them to make the challenge, and Bofur beamed.

"Nicely done before, by the way lass." He said cheerily. She smiled back, eyes suddenly drawn by the glittering at his feet. Seeing that she'd paused, he followed her gaze.

"Beautiful, isn't it." He said quietly.

She'd never thought about it before. She'd seen gold paint; she'd seen chains and rings in the windows of jewellers, but never coins or goblets or the jewel encrusted belts visible in the chest by Gloin. It captured her imagination in a way she found quite unexpected.

"I s'pose it is." She flicked her eyes back to Bofur's, a slight frown creasing her brow. The allure to something so cool and clean and elementally beautiful was almost…_disturbing_. Gandalf was watching her as she shook her hear slightly to clear it, moving over to him and Thorin. They were surveying the odd collection of objects that looked nothing if not like the contents of a serial-killer's attic post water tank flooding. She raised an eyebrow.

"You wonder where all this came from."

"Unfortunate souls the trolls came across." Thorin said with a strange amalgamation of pity and distaste. Senga gave him a flat look.

"Well, I _did_ ask abou' the farmhouse."

His gaze snapped to hers.

"You are suggesting we should have anticipated mountain trolls?"

"We could've been a _bi'_ more careful where we set up shop, yes!"

Thorin looked as if he was about to make an angry retort when Gandalf gasped sharply. Senga had the feeling it was particularly exaggerated for their benefit – as were the heavy coughs of Bofur and the others. Both of them seethed silently for a long moment, neither prepared to give in. Senga was sleep-deprived, battle weary and currently pissed off _so_ _get fucked Gandalf!_ Unfortunately, Thorin seemed to be thinking along the same lines. He met her gaze with one eyebrow cocked contemptuously, storm eyes thunderous, despite the fact that neither had the energy for a real fight. Which was perhaps why Nori and Bofur were suddenly trying desperately _not _to laugh.

Gandalf muttered something infuriatedly under his breath. Apparently giving up then, he left the two of them to stand staring heatedly at one another (for lack of anything else to do) whilst he examined what he'd spotted. Bofur and Nori lost their silent battle, and apparently so had Gloin. Instead of blushing – instead of feeling any shame at all – Senga felt her jaw as if it were steel and redoubled her resolve to win the bloody staring contest.

Suddenly the air shifted like twanging a guitar string.

And then they were just staring at each other, eyes locked like lasers.

It was difficult to tell just who looked away _first_.

Senga suddenly noticed the overpowering fumes and had the inexplicable need to gag, heart racing. It was a difficult feat to want to blush in such a place, but Senga found herself with a sleeve pressed to her mouth, striding determinably over to Gandalf without daring a glance back.

"Wha' are they?" She choked out, desperate for distraction as she stared at the objects under Gandalf's scrutiny. He brushed aside a battered cart contraption with his staff and Thorin stiffly stepped closer with the light, illuminating a pair of sword hilts. Though covered in dust, Senga could see the fine metalwork and subtle wrought designs from a pace back. They were elegant; intricate. Setting aside the torch, Thorin reached for the first, taut face suddenly curious.

"These were not made by any troll." He mused in surprise, swatting away the cobwebs.

"No' by men either." Senga had reached for the second, running her fingers over the soft, flowing dimensions and marvelling at how light it was in her hand. If she lived for a hundred years, she could never have produced something so very _fine_. More than that, there was no mistaking the origins of the design or the materials. Everything about it was excessively precise, yet drawing the blade just a little from the scabbard, she could feel the way it came almost alive beneath her fingers. With reluctance, she passed it to Gandalf. It was too long for her purposes in any case by about half a foot, but still she was loath to part with something so remarkable. He took it delicately with a nod and a sudden intake of breath.

"These were forged in Gondolin." He confirmed in wonder. "By the High Elves of the First Age."

Thorin, who seemed to have been warming up to his, closed his eyes suddenly, a look of disgust crossing his face as he made to return it to its rack.

"You could not wish for a finer blade!"

At Gandalf's sharp words, the dwarf king hesitated. He drew the hilt back into his hand and tugging begrudgingly. The sharp _snick _hovered in the air with a low hum in the way only the sharpest edges did. His hatred of the elves seemed to war with his appreciation of the spectacular weapon.

_Eat your heart out, Frostbrand._

"Beautiful," she murmured softly.

* * *

_Bofur appreciated the beauty in most things he saw. Gold held the highest place of all, as it should for a respectable dwarf, but there were other things. He saw great beauty in that which was made well with care and love; with thought and poetry made into something touchable. Something to run one's hands over and feel the soft affection of those who made it._

_The swords (despite their being elven) seemed almost to effuse it._

_But when Senga stared in awe at the blade in Thorin's hand (which was indeed very nice) and whispered her approval, Bofur would swear hand on heart that the king's eyes flicked to her, wide and deep._

_She didn't meet the look. Bofur remembered their conversation about lovers. About her anger and her fear. He also remembered seeing the two struggling so desperately to reach one another; the look of his king. It had been no ordinary look, and he had been in just the right position to see it at the time (though being on the spit had him a _bit _preoccupied). He had, of course, said nothing. Because it was impossible – or at least very likely _improbable_._

_Surely…?_

_He was striding away now with the pretty sword, Senga staring after him with eyes watering from the fumes. Suddenly her eyes flicked to a point past him and widened abruptly, stance tensing. Turning, he realised Dwalin was standing at the cave's entrance, eyeing their combined efforts to bury the chest. Which was a very sensible thing to do altogether! But when he saw Senga, exasperated contempt morphed into such an outright loathing that the normally optimistic dwarf frowned. Nay, he _scowled_ at Dwalin who watched the poor girl pick her way all the way up and out of the cave. At least Gandalf noticed and frowned too, hanging back until she'd passed him._

_He'd talk to Balin. Or make Dwalin cave about his reasons for hating their Senga, because this was, frankly, getting ridiculous. Both she and Bilbo were very much a part of them and if Dwalin couldn't see that, then they had a problem, plain and simple._

"_Bofur, Gloin, Nori!"_

Alright, Mister Demanding, _he thought wryly (though he would never dare say such things aloud). Gandalf was fiddling with something on the floor and they were about done anyway._

_He took another look at their tired-looking king._

_He had to be imagining it. He had to be. Was that…a blush?_

* * *

"'ey," Fili said brightly as Senga passed, frowning deeply. "Is that a sword Gandalf's giving our Bilbo?"

"What's wrong?" Kili pulled her dark look to face him, just as Dwalin surfaced from the cave. His own face shadowed, looking quickly away back to Senga and suring his hold around her. Senga rolled her eyes heavily, growling, but couldn't help lean into the warmth when Kili didn't withdraw.

"Genuinely though," Fili insisted. "Is that a real sword?"

"'s abou' time he had one."

The three milled about. Kili once more had an arm slung over her shoulder. She had the sneaking suspicion that it was keeping him upright in the absence of adrenaline and felt the dark cloud drain slowly away. Well, she supposed it was her turn to lend a shoulder.

_Warmth beneath her right ear. Solid and broad…_

She pushed her thoughts away with a fresh wave of confusion. The mass of dark hair and lolling weight was tangible; immediate. It represented what it was to have someone to care for and a warm body to hold when she needed it. It was more than she had ever hoped for. It anchored her down.

Wasn't that enough?

Her head still ached nastily, and it hurt every time she tried to wrap her head around things. Particularly things related to Thorin. What the fuck was _wrong _with her? It had to be the stress, the lack of sleep, the effing pain in her head that made her lose all sense of proportion.

She sighed heavily and let Kili hold her up.

_What would her Great Uncle say now? _She wasn't so naïve to think she was quite the same jaded, hard girl that had left home. She'd changed – or at least, the mould she'd built so rigidly to protect herself had gone…_bendy._ She smiled as she thought of the dwarf beside her. Yet she was still changing and she'd be lying if she said it didn't scare her. After the last few days she felt almost fluid in the way her emotions were rattling around. The way her composure shored and shattered seemingly at random.

"Kili, you're tilting."

She was travelling to realise who she was; who she wanted to be. She knew neither.

"Uh, Senga? Kili?"

All she wanted was someone to come along and reassure her that the world made sense. Which would've been utter bollocks, but still it might have helped.

"You two are going to fall over, that is _going _to happen."

Senga let go of Kili just in time as the latter overbalanced and sprawled to the floor. Fili chuckled, rolling his eyes at the archer as he scrambled to his feet. Kili promptly launched himself at his brother and tried to tackle him.

Senga sidestepped the two idiots with a hearty laugh. She made to join Balin and Bofur, the two seemingly deep in conversation. They broke off the minute she approached, but Balin's warm greeting dispelled the image like oil in detergent. It was a strange feeling, she decided, being stuck in the most insane of settings, and yet feeling closer to home than she'd ever done since before she could remember. Bofur tipped his pipe, amusement ever in his eyes. She was about to ask if she could borrow a bit of weed herself, when a shout came from Thorin at the head of the group.

"Something's coming!"

Senga tensed, adrenaline screaming back into place. Each of the dwarves sprung instantly back into action, weary as they all were. Now Senga could hear it herself; something large and heavy crashing through the forest on their right.

"Stay together! Hurry now – arm yourselves!"

Fili and Kili were at her side in an instant, the company leaping down the slope and into more defensible positions among the rock formations as they prepared for the attack. Thorin looked quickly about him, checking that every one of them was ready, tired as they all were. For some reason his eyes found her twice, flicking swiftly away each time before she could read them. Bristling frustratedly, her hands found her bow rather than her sword this time and suddenly she felt a world more confident.

_This _was a weapon she could use to kill. Not as harsh, not as pointed (pun _definitely _intended) but for the moment it was what she had. What she _knew_ would serve her.

And that gave her power.

With new patience and surety, she knocked an arrow and waited, nostrils flaring reflexively. She spotted Bilbo, the new blade clutched tightly out from him. She recognised it in an instant, the leaf-blade shining silver beneath the wending elvish inscription. She couldn't help the smile that spread across her lips as she saw it, meeting Bilbo's wide eyes as she did. He looked helplessly back, glancing back to where twigs snapped and leaves crashed.

Senga turned quickly back round, fingers tensing. Whatever it was approached with almost terrifying speed and, as it got closer, she could hear better the sound of someone shouting. Loudly.

_What the hell?_

Suddenly it crashed through the foliage with a yell that sounded like 'murder!' and an odd, familiar _chattering._

"OH, GOOD GOD!" She shrieked, fury boiling out of her ears.

The rabbits, as one, cowered.

* * *

_**A.N: Qi'yah is Klingon. I assume the relative translation into practical English is similar to 'fuck', but I like to think it's stronger. I've put in a few references to RPG's in general, but most of them are nonspecific except for the one mentioning Frostbrand. It is a very nice scimitar in Icewind Dale (and which also appears in Baldur's Gate if you attack Drizzt for it, though this REALLY isn't advice for a low level party since he will thump you with said scimitar). I put it in because it's a nice sword from a good game and it's well named.**_

_**The episode of the original series of Star Trek referenced is Miri (Series one, episode eight). Yes, I am a nerd and so is she.**_

_**Oh - and before I forget - I would like to point out that Kili's brother relationship with Senga is essential for developing her character and I've spent a lot of focus on it because it needed to be done. The darkness in her had to be counterbalanced by a healthy friendship with someone to put her feet on the right path and start to heal some of her intrinsic pain and the need to run.**_

_**Besides, all that was building up to the long Senga/Thorin sequences in this and beyond. Happy?**_

_**Still, I do like that you lot (reviewers) are keeping me on my toes. I get that I've divided the screen time in favour of Kili and Senga, but I've been trying to juggle the sub-plots and at the same time give Senga and Thorin's relationship enough time to build believably. I promise a lot more work on it in the near future **_

_**(smirks, cackles, and rubs hands in evil conspiracy)**_

_**So, more reviews? (woo for fifty - you lot are brilliant!)**_


	10. Running

_**Chapter Nine**_

**Running**

"NO!" she bellowed, shaking with rage. "NO, I REFUSE TO DO THIS AGAIN!_ FUCKIN' RABBITS!_"

"Miss Senga!" Gandalf scolded angrily, but Senga was having none of it. She caught sight of the brown-clad loon astride the…_rabbit drawn sleigh? _The sight as a whole was worse – _far_ worse – than the pink elephants and the time she'd thought a friend of hers was a fairy (wings included) and it only got worse as the mad bastard caught sight of her and gasped. He nearly toppled off his perch, pointing and babbling. Grey beard and hair were plastered to one side of his face with a suspect-looking white crust and his eyes were wide as saucers.

"Her! Her! Gandalf, is that _HER?_"

"Yes," Gandalf said quickly, reaching out to calm his friend and glaring daggers at Senga. For it was obvious that this was Radagast the Brown: bird-speaker and well respected naturalist wizard of Middle Earth. And, apparently, _complete and utter fucking loony! _

_S_aid loony leapt to from the saddle and, without warning, marched purposefully towards her. Before she could react, he poked her hard in the chest and balled a fist around his staff.

"_Who_ do you _think_ you are?" He spat, twitching all the while. "_Threatening_ my rabbits?"

Senga stared at him, mouth open as the blood thumped through her ears.

"_Me?_" she eventually choked. "Who THE FUCK do you think _YOU _are? You an' your FUCKIN' BUNNIES!"

Radagast looked genuinely bewildered as his rabbits quivered in their quickly formed bundle. One particularly large buck with brown ears, however, raised his head and squeaked indignantly. It looked her right in the eye and its look said, plainly, _'we brought you here, didn't we?'_

It took all her self control not to shoot it in the eye right there. The way her grip tightened on her bow; her gaze enough (she was sure) to burn down _several_ forests, caught Fili and Kili's attention just in time, the latter grabbing her elbow before she could aim. Clearly, both were completely flummoxed as to why she desired to threaten a pile of pathetically shaking rabbits, but Kili looked as if comprehension sparked. Senga's wrath was on him in an instant as he desperately fought off a grin.

"Gandalf?" Thorin's voice demanded attention.

"It's alright –"

"You scared them half to death, you did! You and your…your shouting and…and you waving –"

"THEY SHOWED UP AFTER I FELL DOWN A FUCKIN' HILL AND STARTED TELLING ME WHA' TO DO!" Senga shrieked. "Oh, an' I suppose it was _YOU_ wi' the _FUCKIN'_ VOICE?"

"It was a perfectly reasonable way to guide you to the door!"

"AN'YOU'RE GOIN' ON ABOU' _ME_ SCARIN' _THEM _HALF TO DEATH?"

"Please, both of you, this is –"

"As if hearin' _YOUR_ _OWN NAME ON THE BREEZE_ IS A FUCKIN' _NORMAL_ THING TO HEAR IN A FOREST IN SCOTLAND!"

"Senga!"

The air crackled black. The grey wizard equalled her anger quite suddenly, quashing hers in an instant. The company gasped as Gandalf towered over them. For a second she was tempted to fight back, but one look at the power he radiated was enough to silence that idea. It was easy to forget that behind the guise of an old man was a being as old as the earth, as strong as the sea and as powerful as the storm that cracks the mountainside. She certainly wasn't forgetting that today.

"Now," he said calmly, diminishing back to normal in the weight of the silence. "If the both of you could please quiet your grievances for we are in neither the position nor the setting to discuss them." The look he spared Senga at this told of the words he would say to her when they _were _in a position to discuss it. She tried to mask the wince she felt at the thought of the scolding she was in for, but Radagast distracted her by mumbling something incoherent as he moved away, a dark look in his eye.

"Wha' did you mean by _'is tha' her?'_" She asked suddenly, anger still lingering belligerently. Radagast froze and so, to her surprise, did Balin. Gandalf looked shifty, but it was Dwalin that caught her eye as he stared hard at the brown wizard for all the world as if he'd deceived him.

"So you're Gandalf's _associate_." He rumbled, anger plain in his eyes. Balin shot him a sharp look.

"He meant you're the one we sent for, lassie." The older dwarf said quickly. Dwalin scoffed almightily, turning to look anywhere but her.

"Yes, yes, the one from the other side. _Completing the journey started long ago by the fore mother and back to home…as it was told…_"

"_Wha'?_"

Every dwarf stared at Radagast save for Balin and Dwalin. Gandalf gave him a sharp look.

"That's…quite enough of that." He said quietly. "Besides, I doubt you travelled all this way simply to speak of _that_ matter. What is it that drives you to such speed, my friend, and far from your home?"

"Oh, I was looking! I was looking for you, Gandalf!" Abruptly, Radagast seemed completely distracted. "Something's wrong! Something's _terribly_ wrong!" He approached Gandalf, both grave and eager, yet stopped himself mid-stride, confusion warping his features. He made several more attempts at speaking, finally dithering as if he'd forgotten what he was going to say. Senga looked at him as if he were an escapee from the very deepest rooms of Bedlam. Just as she'd decided that things couldn't get any worse, Radagast – without so much as batting an eyelid – pulled a live (and perfectly calm) stick insect from inside his mouth. The dwarves were _silent_.

"So, _this _is who you contracted to fetch me?" Senga said slowly, disdain bleeding through every syllable.

"Radagast the Brown is a very dear friend of mine, Miss Senga!" Gandalf retorted hotly. "And I would deem it gracious of you were to treat him with a little more fitting courtesy!"

"Well, _forgive_ me if I don' appreciate bein' ambushed by the sodding pet bunnies of a certified lunatic!" She growled viciously. "An', for the record, you migh' 'ave jus' _asked_."

"You would have refused."

"AN' THA' JUSTIFIES IT?" It nettled her the cool way in which Radagast had answered, as if it were the obvious and prudent option.

Yet some part of her roiled at the thought that she might not have chosen this. That she might have abandoned going to Middle Earth in favour of common sense; in favour of the bitterness she'd horded protectively around herself. Not that it had gone away by any stretch, but she was _here_ and it felt _good. _If falling down the hill had never happened?

Unwillingly, her eyes darted to the forest floor, noting keenly the warm presences either side of her. _She would never have met them. She would never have discovered it was possible to be held by someone whose love she didn't accept without question. She would never have had the experience of wishing she could do such things for another, battered and emotionally selfish as she was._

She was turning and walking away, feet impacting hard on the exposed rock. Her heart and bones felt like lead.

"Senga!" Fili and Kili shouted behind her, but there were no footsteps following. Bofur shouted as well, concern etching his voice. Gloin and Oin yelled something she suspected was meant to be scolding. And then, much closer than she would've thought it'd be –

"Senga, do not wander off!"

She stopped, feet thumping onto earth.

_She would never have seen those eyes; the ones that had lingered in her imagination since raising her head to see them boring into hers. All the way back at Bag End…_

"We know not what else might have slunk through these woods."

She turned silently. Her mouth set a hard line as she met his eyes again, this time to see just how he would react. The storm-grey pupils were inscrutable, face expressionless as the rock. But it didn't fool her entirely. She'd worn too many expressions like it not to see the slight surprise behind the mask.

"I'll jus' sit quietly then." She said nonchalantly, finding a log nearby and plonking herself down. "If tha's_ alrigh'_ by you."

He seemed unsure of how to respond. Emotions flickered on and off his face until he caught sight of Fili and Kili's cautious approach. Upon seeing this, he loosed a low huff of exasperation, crossing his arms over his chest. He remained standing before her as the brothers sat down, looking apprehensively between the two.

"So," Kili said slowly, edging towards her along the log. "You were ambushed by Mister Radagast's…rabbits?"

"'course, that's why that one was banging at the window!" Fili reminded him. Senga scowled, the upturned twitches on both lips vanished instantly.

"Well, at least we are safe in the knowledge that you are able to handle yourself against a small group of oversized rodents." Thorin said mordantly, the un-banished twitch in his own lips mocking her as she looked tightly back to him.

"Go fuck yourself." She snapped.

Thorin's smirk vanished, jaw clenching. The sight made her realise she'd crossed a line, but she couldn't bring herself to really care. The need to sleep edged into her brain – alongside the need to kill something. Preferably something small and furry with big _fucking_ ears.

To her surprise, Fili spoke first.

"Oi," he said softly. "There's no need for that."

Her eyes widened in shock as he put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her a tad towards him.

"There's no need to cuss just 'cos you're upset." She glared harshly at him, but he put up a hand to continue. "Only, that is to say, we didn't mean to rub it in and make you feel worse."

"Not even a bit." Kili confirmed, taking courage from Fili's boldness to take her hand. The action caused Thorin to do something quite odd. An emotion resembling anger passed like lightning over his face, hidden quickly, but leaving a dark expression in its wake. His hands balled into fists and he was gone before any of them could utter a word, striding back to where Gandalf and Radagast were taking council.

"What was _that _about?" Kili asked, stunned. Fili just stared dumbly after their uncle, complete and pure astonishment dominating his features.

"Bu –" he stopped himself mid-word, opening and shutting his mouth without success.

"Wha'?"

"No…"

He shook his head, evidently dismissing whatever it was he'd thought, and turned back to her, sliding his arm away so that Kili could pull her into a comfortable embrace against his chest.

"Why did Radagast say what he did?" Kili mused as they observed the two wizards.

"Who kno's." Senga spat. "He seems to 'ave a lo' o' things come ou' his mouth."

The archer smirked, resting his chin atop her head.

"Did you see the way Dwalin reacted?" Fili said suddenly, eyes frowning.

"How?"

"Like he knew what Radagast meant – Balin too – but as if Dwalin wasn't happy with it, or…didn't agree with it. He turned away like he didn't want to know. And did you notice how Gandalf cut them all off before anything else could be said?"

"You don't think they're keeping secrets from you?" Kili said with sudden concern.

"I kno' Balin hasn' told me everything." Senga mused quietly. "He's alluded to somethin' a couple of times, bu' he keeps avoiding a straight answer."

Fili and Kili exchanged a glance.

"What do you think the secret is?"

"I don' kno'."

Senga shut her eyes miserably and started falling asleep again. Gandalf and Radagast were talking a ways away and the sleigh was out of sight behind her, the rabbits absently snuffling the ground. Both of which suited her just _fine._ She thought wistfully about the stiff drink that existed somewhere in space and time, but just contented herself with burrowing her head up under Kili's chin.

"Uncle looks distracted." Fili said absently.

* * *

"You'll wear out the rock."

Thorin paused, shooting a look at Balin even as his brother snorted derisively, finally snapping.

"So you believe him, then?" Dwalin jabbed an axe in Radagast's direction.

"Whether I believe the wizards or no, she has done nothing but contribute to this company an' _you_ have done nothing but try to turn her away."

"She has no business here if she's no'–" Dwalin growled viciously, cutting himself short. "We have argued for weeks withou' agreement, brother." He continued lowly.

"And yet neither of you have seen fit to tell _me_ of these!"

The two of them turned to see Thorin glaring daggers at them.

"Laddie, it's enough for the moment that Gandalf trusts her. An' tha' _I_ trust her. Is that no' why you allowed her to come?"

The king did not answer. Balin thought he might have got lock jaw from the force with which he was clenching it.

"I swear if it were a risk to us, we would tell you Laddie. It's more…personal."

"Personal?"

"Aye." Balin responded unashamedly, silently praying Dwalin would keep his mouth shut. Luckily his brother was far too worried with making crude suggestions and goading Thorin for him to let slip their secret.

"She is probably screwing him." He said with a look back to Senga and the boys. "The amoun' of attention he's given her lately."

Balin shoved him in the stomach with the handle of his sword.

"I told no' a lie." He said harshly. "For if you say another word, brother, the next is aimed at your face."

"Still think he should clear his head." Dwalin wheezed heavily.

"And _how_, Dwalin, would I do that?"

"Just fuck her against a tree."

* * *

"_You know, I've half a mind to punch him on the nose."_

"_Bofur?"_

"_Oh, don't get me wrong lad, I've no claim to the lass, but there are some things that are just out of line."_

"_He has no right to say something like that." The hobbit blurted out, voice low and hard. "I mean, why does have claim to hate her so much?"_

"_That, my little friend, is a question I would _very much_ like the answer to."_

* * *

"We should play _I Spy_."

"No."

* * *

"_Dol Guldur? But the old fortress is abandoned…"_

"_No, Gandalf. 'tis not…"_

* * *

"Senga?"

"Hmm?"

"Why do you have so many scars?"

She twisted in his arms, eyes suddenly wide, tiredness gone.

"I was just asking…" Kili put his hands up quickly. Senga's eyes softened a bit at the overly cautious reaction. Instead of rising to the anger, she hung her head, tired and apologetic. _Her apologetic?_ She was changing. And perhaps…perhaps the safety she felt deep in her chest when Kili spoke, when he held her, was enough to ease down her defences. _Wasn't it?_ He didn't deserve her going another round of shouting, anyway. _God she was tired…_

"Maybe," she said softly, letting the words come without resistance. "One day…if you're lucky…I'll tell you a bi' abou' them."

Kili seemed to realise the gravity of what she'd just said and raised his eyebrows in amazement.

"'s no' a promise." She reprimanded harshly, snapping out of it. Fili nodded, equally dumbfounded.

"Oh…_Christ_."

"What?"

She put her head in her hands and wondered despairingly at what point the estranged subsections of her fucked mind had started getting their own lawyers.

"You two," she moaned. "You've made me go…" she shuddered in horror. "…_soft_."

All three of them burst out laughing.

* * *

_Thorin feared blood would start gushing out of his ears, Dwalin's words ringing like twisted snakes through his head even as he fought – _grappled – _himself back to control._

* * *

Balin thought despairingly on the state of things. Breaking Dwalin's nose had been avoided by the glare Thorin had cast at both of them and his brother's unexpected prudency in getting out of his sight. Balin knew what it was. Dwalin wanted to push Thorin – to force things to the surface lest they be left to threaten the king and, by extension, their mission. Durin's heirs had always been too good at bottling things up. Thrain had been the same. And Thror's 'bottling up' went into legendary.

Yet there were _lines_, and although Dwalin meant well in the end, always had done, in this matter he had pushed too far. And out of his own doubts and anger, at that. Balin wanted nothing better than to explain to him how much of a warg's arse he'd been acting, but that was a conversation to be had in private. They were still out in the open and still there was work to be done, regardless of personal feelings. The soldier and guardsman in him prized down his anger and appraised their position objectively.

Thorin was distracted.

Bofur looked as if he wanted to do to Dwalin what Balin himself had been considering in minutes previous.

Bilbo looked angry and uncomfortable. Understandably.

Oin, Gloin, Bombur and Bifur were gripping their weapons restlessly and eyeing the two wizards.

Dwalin was keeping an eye on the forest, for which Balin was begrudgingly grateful.

Fili, Kili and Senga were slightly removed from the rest and keeping well enough their own company. Thus explaining precisely _why_ Thorin was distracted.

Dori was trying to follow Gandalf and Radagast's conversation.

Nori was keeping Ori company whilst trying to look as if he _wasn't _doing what Dori was doing.

Ori was trying not to fall asleep.

Balin chuckled slightly to himself as the poor boy's eyes drifted to the trio on the log and to the soundly dozing Senga resting against Kili's chest as if wishing he were in her position. Kili himself looked perfectly relaxed, which was odd since it was only days before he would have been barely containing astonishment at his luck. Yet…Fili's observation of the both of them had changed too. It was no longer apprehensive, or searching.

_Ah_.

Still, he could see how Thorin saw the dynamics of it. Balin had the fleeting image of him confronting Senga and of Senga slapping him hard in the face.

* * *

_Dwalin glared at the toymaker. Bofur Glared back. How he wanted to scream. He wanted to shake the mountains – shake his fool of a brother for believing the lies they'd been spun. For believing the wizards and that ridiculous legend; for DARING to come up with that fool of a whore of a little girl. For suggesting that this 'Senga' was –_

* * *

"_That is not from the world of the living."_

_Gandalf hummed disconcertingly. The weight pressed on his fingers._

* * *

A howl. Rising out of the morning.

High, and sharp, and cold.

In the blink of an eye the dwarves forgot their concerns – their conversations, their sleep deprivation, their personal turmoil – and looked up, each one suddenly _absolutely _present.

"Was that a wolf? Are there…are there wolves out there?"

Senga, Kili and Fili were on their feet like snakes out of a basket.

"No…" Bofur clutched his mattock to his chest. "No, that was not a wolf…"

Senga could feel the tension thrum through her arms, her grip on the switch of wood making her fingertips tingle. It was as if everything was moving at half speed. Then it appeared behind Bofur and Bilbo: a face with gleaming yellow eyes, matted grey fur and a foul muzzle that twisted in a snarl. The teeth glistened, but even without training in biology or magic she could _feel _the _wrongness _emanating from the creature. Something _unnatural._ Something that made her skin crawl and set her stomach roiling. It leapt before she could react, met by Dwalin and Gloin as they worked together to crush its skull.

All she could think in those moments was of a cold, blinding banner emblazoned with a hard realisation.

_So these are monsters._

Thorin yelled. Her response was instant. She was swivelling; arrow knocked, string taut, facing the second warg as it lunged. Her arrow impacted with Kili's; one hitting its neck bellow the ear, the other its eye (though in the moment she couldn't tell which was which). It shrieked. Dwalin turned and brought his hammer down just as Thorin ripped open its throat.

_Dead._

"Warg scouts!"

_Where the fuck had they come from?_

"Which means an orc pack cannot be far behind!"

"_Orc pack?_" Bilbo face was bloodless, but he wasn't the only one. Thorin's mouth had drawn thin, eyes blazing as they met Dwalin's. Gandalf looked livid.

"Who did you tell about your quest?" he demanded. "Beyond your kin?"

"No one!"

"Who did you tell!"

"No one, I swear!"

It was as if the air was crackling. Her fear seemed suspended in it, shared and amplified by everyone else. But it was more than that: as her eyes darted round – _to Kili, to Fili, to Bofur – _they fell to the rabbits. They were twitching; their ears were pricked.

They were no longer focussed on her.

_Oh shit…_

"What in Durin's name is going on?"

"We're bein' hunted."

The dwarves turned as one to her, but she knew she was right. Behind the anger in Dwalin's face was fear.

"We have to get _out_ of here."

"For once I agree _completely_." Senga was moving, looking, checking –

"We can't!" Ori yelped. "We have no ponies – they bolted!"

Fuck. _Fuck!_

The clever-eyed buck snapped to its hind legs.

"Shit!"

"I'll draw them off!"

She spun around.

"You'll do _wha'_, you crazy bastard?"

Radagast gave her a truly withering look, eyes like the blackened yet glowing surface of a lava flow. Fortunately, Gandalf agreed with Senga.

"These are Gundabad wargs," he said exasperatedly. "They will outrun you!"

Radagast looked suddenly fiercely indignant, puffing himself up like a sparrow as he switched his eyes to the grey wizard.

"_These _are _Rhosgobel _rabbits!"

_Squeak!_

The lead rabbit looked straight at her, for all the world as if it couldstare her down. As if it _would. _As if _it_, out of the two of them, knew exactly what it was doing.

"I'd like to see them _try_."

Senga didn't know whether to laugh or just stand there gawping. Slack-jawed disbelief won over as the rest of the dwarves looked between the mad wizard and the rabbit sleigh.

_Squeak!_

"Then let us move!" Thorin nodded to Radagast, face full of surprised gratitude, before climbing one of the rocks and letting Dwalin charge past to lead them, Balin right behind him. The order effectively broke everyone out of their paralysis and they hurried to follow it, but before Senga could move, Radagast again turned to her. Eyes the colour of the earth and rock beneath her feet held her rooted to spot. She couldn't have escaped if she'd tried. And in that moment she was reminded with a crash of realisation that this was no mere old madman: he was an istari. An ancient and powerful watch-wizard of Middle Earth.

And she wanted _answers._

"Kili! Senga!" Thorin barked from the rock. Left alone at her side, Kili didn't move.

"Senga?"

"_At the journey's last, when the game appears to end, take that which you have held closest to your heart and swallow it whole. Then shall you stand in hope's breaking light._"

The brown wizard looked _into _her. As if he could see her whole life laid out before him. The words vibrated in the air; _hummed _through her as if the twines of her existence in time and space were responding. They held _authority_ – even if they made _absolutely no sense._

"_Wha'?_"

"Come!" The dwarf king glared urgently from where he stood, his wild storm-gaze the only thing powerful enough to interrupt Radagast's. She nearly swore out loud as she had this thought, barging in as it did through the contemplations of her own future. Breaking the spell entirely. Radagast looked away at last, unphased as if he'd just given her the time of day, and strode to the sleigh, farewelling Gandalf before he leapt into the driver's seat. Meanwhile, Senga was trying to work out what it was that made Thorin affect her so.

_This was how many times in the last six hours?_

It knocked on a door within her that she'd barricaded for so long, she didn't know what it was anymore. It was past other things too disturbing and too dark to contemplate in the same space as Thorin, yet there it was.

"Senga! Come _on!_" Kili tugged desperately at her arm, finally succeeding in yanking her back to the world with a jolt.

_Being hunted. Fuck. Right._

They covered the distance to Thorin in two bounds before Senga, unable to just _leave _it like that, spun back to the sleigh. Thorin's eyes burned into her back – _forcing her to physically push back the sudden and unexpected reminder of his hands tracing her scar _– and she looked from Radagast to the bunnies. The buck, proud and tall on its hind legs, gave a bob of the head that made his erect ears flop forward and then back again.

"_Bugger._"

She'd never be caught liking rabbits _ever again. _

And later she'd deny till she was blue in the mouth the nod she returned, stood there beside the dwarf king and his nephew.

Then they were running; sprinting. She and Kili stuck together behind Thorin, lose sticks and stones threatening to turn neck and ankle as they were kicked away before their haste. Gandalf was nowhere to be seen – until Senga caught a flash of grey ahead of them. She groaned at the ease with which the wizards seemed to move at speed: every muscle in her body _hurt. _It was always that way with lack of sleep, but the pace they set for their legs was punishing. Just waiting for the fresh wave of adrenaline to kick in was torture.

But she didn't slow. And neither did Kili. Low branches and underbrush whipped at the exposed skin on their hands and faces, tugging at their coats, but they never once lost ground behind Thorin. As the last of the trees thinned, they could see the rest of the company.

"Kili! Senga!"

They burst onto the grass, Fili gesturing frantically to them.

"Come on!"

"Alrigh', alrigh'! Keep your hair on!"

Fili rolled his eyes as they drew level, but the tension in his frame did not dissipate. The howling was louder now. _Closer. _Gandalf led them swiftly into the shadow of a large tor and they huddled behind it, each trying not to imagine what would happen if this didn't work.

The wargs were calling; searching, _converging_. It was enough to make Senga's blood freeze even as it pounded through her heart. Somehow she was still pressed close to Thorin, Kili and Fili behind her, Gandalf stood peering around the monolith's edge. For a few moments, their world narrowed to this alone: their breath and their bodies and the howling of monsters. Thorin spun his head briefly back to them and found her right behind him. _Was the growl her imagination?_

Suddenly there was an explosion of noise. Something – _the loopy brown wizard with the rabbit marines to be precise – _crashed out of the treeline and whizzed over the grass. _That _got the wargs' attention. The cry went up, accompanied almost immediately by the roars and snarls of at least a dozen creatures. More noise went up as they charged: the heavy tread of the twisted dogs and the guttural encouragement of their masters. Without warning, they came into view, racing past without a glance to their hiding place before disappearing away over the rise.

"Come on."

They thumped the earth, racing over the studded plain as Gandalf led them. They dodged from sparse cover to sparse cover, the brothers sticking firmly by her side, trying to out-manoeuvre the pack. Her legs were screaming, not least because they were constantly forced to stop, but the bumpy lie of the land itself was hard.

Not once did she let it show on her face.

Call it stubbornness, but she was _not _about to appear weak. Not now. She divorced herself from the pain, concentrating only on the task at hand.

_Push, leap, thump._

By grinding will, she kept her legs moving up the hills.

_Push, leap, thump. Rock to rock_. Through the scattered tors: scrambling, darting, leaping.

She treated the distance over the thrice-blasted, crag-strewn plain like a personal insult, defeating it with efficient determination, ignoring her body.

She was goodat this.

Nothing existed in her past or future. Not anger or fear or pain or regret. _This_,the here and now, was _all_, and there was literally nothing in it that could've _dared _slow her down. She could run forever – had _been _running forever. Even Fili and Kili were having trouble keeping pace with her as she weaved around the potholes. She placed her feet perfectly; _slamming _them to the earth with the precision of her forging hammer.

_Yes. _Through one thing and another, she was _good_ at this.

_Though it's definitely easier when you're _not _high_, a voice in her head commented smoothly.

Senga cursed on her next breath, wishing her third thoughts could shove it. They could hear the fruits of Radagast's efforts, obscured by the limestone, and Senga had to be at least _a bit _impressed at that. It was also keeping them alive. For a few more glorious minutes, they were still alive. It wasn't ice, but fire leaping in her blood now.

It was ironic, but being so close to death, she'd never felt _more _alive. More in control. She kept easy pace with Thorin as she got her second wind and outstripped him to the open ground beyond the next boulder.

A zipping, hissing noise to her left followed by snapping howls made her look round so fast her neck clicked. She pulled up sharply, causing Kili to crash into her with a grunt. The sleigh raced past with the pack tailing behind, too engrossed in the chase to notice them. But they were too close. _Too fucking close. _Senga fought to backpedal, forced to acknowledge her own lack of breath as she stumbled back to Thorin. They watched as the train sped past.

"Stay together!" Gandalf hissed, suddenly at her elbow. They didn't need telling twice. She and Thorin spearheaded the group, sprinting together. Whether it was because she was being driven by something deep in her blood that took her to the pace of a madman, or whether Thorin was at the limit of his speed, she couldn't have said, but together they stayed, the brothers right behind them. She could see the rest of the company following as they raced downward for the other side of a tor –

_A zip-zip in the grass. Thundering bodies. Howling._

Thorin threw an arm across her ribs even as the dwarves bottlenecked behind them, hurling themselves into the rock. Her knees locked painfully, but she at least managed to stop.

"Ori! No!"

It took a full moment to realise that she had been the one to shout. No, _scream_. Scream as the youngest member of their party came hurtling past into the path of the hunt. And it had been her body that lunged forward to pull him into her arms and force him into the protective shadow of the rock before he could be spotted.

"Get back!"

Ori yelped, but at Thorin's order went mercifully still. The incident lasted less than ten seconds, but suddenly Senga found herself jammed in front of Thorin and Fili with Ori clutched tightly in her arms.

"…Miss Senga?"

Only Ori could manage to be _more_ astonished than her.

"Go." She hissed, shoving him mercilessly into the waiting protection of his brothers. They each looked at her. As did the other dwarves: some suspicious, some smiling; most were mirroring her own surprise and shock. Thorin cast her a look of intense scrutiny as she stumbled from the rock, panting hard.

"Hurry now, quick!"

Eager to put distance between them and the pack, Gandalf urgently ushered them on, waving past Dwalin, Bifur, Fili, Gloin...for some reason Senga found her legs didn't want to move. She was still opposite Thorin, refusing to meet his eyes for the first time all day. After what seemed an age, his attention turned abruptly to Gandalf.

"Where are you leading us?"

The wizard as he frowned as Senga looked up, mouth cocked uneasily.

"_Wonderful._" She quipped sarcastically as Thorin rolled his eyes. The wizard charged lithely down the hill, leaving them to follow in his wake. Senga could feel the dwarf's frustration as they made for a large tumble that stood between them and the chase as it faded into the distance. _Just a little longer…_

The air froze. Except for the heavy breath and tread of the creature on the rocks above them, its master sniffing the air. _A break away. _Her breath seized in her throat. Every tiny sound seemed amplified; every movement shrieked. It was as if time stood on a knife edge, waiting for someone to fall. The warg appeared above them, its rider wielding a cruel-looking (if poorly balanced) halberd, and she felt a nudge

She whipped her head to the side. Fili was tugging at the bow she'd tucked securely against her pack to keep her hands free, a pointed look in his eye. It slid noiselessly into her fingers. She looked up; first to Fili, and then to Kili, and then to Thorin. The dwarf king's sights were on the enemy above them, but even as she watched he turned, calmly meeting her and Kili's eyes.

He inclined his head without the need to utter a word.

Senga felt her skin flash cold. Fili squished back into Nori to give her room, but ironically what flashed through her head as she knocked the arrow was _'two d-ten plus six: insta-kill with head-shot given stealth bonuses.'_

She drew back the string, pulling in air.

_Fuck._

Kili, his face grim, nodded. She tried to feel the same control she had when they were running, but it was off-key. She was too tired; too shaky, and what good was she anyway against real monsters when she couldn't even defeat the demons in her head when they chose to attack? She was just an ex-druggy who knew her way around a bow, not some sort of fucking warrioress!

She tried to concentrate only on the weapon, sure and supple in her grip as they darted out; turned, fired –

She missed.

Not by much, but it was the difference between hitting the suddenly snarling warg between the eyes and hitting the rider in the hip. Granted, it was crippling for a human, but less so for a berserking orc in the rage of battle. It didn't even unseat him. And for once it seemed her luck had run dry with Kili getting little better than a knee-shot.

_BOLOCKS!_

She fumbled frantically to try to get off another arrow, but the damage was done as both orc and rider fell screaming from the tumble, their cries echoing like a klaxon through the crags. Dwalin roared, he and Bifur dispatching them where they fell, but the sounds didn't quite cover the calls rising from the pack. There was no mistaking their position now. A horrible silence fell among the company, filled with unnatural howling.

"Move. _Run!_"

They fled, Senga burning with shame and trembling with fatigue. Her body was betraying her, slowly but surely. _How could she have missed? _They were pushing desperately; out of the crags and onto rolling plains scattered with pine stands. The sun beat down mercilessly, despite it being only midmorning, but it was the heat pooled in her leathers that bothered Senga now. It pulled her down, drained her. She was no longer able to fly like the doe from the proverbial fucking meadow, but rather plodded as hard as she could go with about as much grace as a three-legged dog. Her head drooped down, cheeks on fire, chest tight, but to stop was to die and she wasn't about to die_ here_. Not running. Not now. Not when she felt so much like _living_.

_That makes a change._

Gandalf's hat bobbed ahead as she jammed her body back online. Fuck why, _just do it! _

Her head snapped up as Gloin called out, the pack closing in before them; on the ridges around them.

"This way; quickly!"

They were being herded; forced into the runnels and troughs to run like rats into a trap. Senga watched as the shapes charged along the crests, just visible as they boxed them in. Suddenly she heard Thorin's gasp and realised the pack had swung round to meet them, closing their route. Desperate, she led off to the side with Kili at her heels – only to hear the roaring of creatures in front of them.

"There's more coming!" Kili yelled as they backtracked, Senga flying back around the clustering company to try and find an opening.

"Kili!" Thorin yelled as they came into view. "Senga! _Shoot them!_"

Snarling, she took aim at the nearest pair – any target – and fired.

"FUCK!"

She all but screamed as the arrow thudded into the ground. They were closing in fast, in pairs and threes, but more and more as she watched.

"We're surrounded!"

_Cut off. Run into the ground. Cornered._

She aimed again. She heard the yelp of orcs hit by Kili's arrows, but they were far apart by this point, on opposite sides of the company as they backed towards a lone crag that provided a scant barrier at their backs. She was covering their flank. The arrow went awry. She was –

A sound like grinding dust caught her attention. _They _were looking at her, laughing. _Laughing._

Rage boiled through her, so that she moved without thinking. She aimed even before she brought the bow back up and loosed with a feeling like carrying a thunderbolt. It struck between the bastard orc's eyes. The next took out the throat of the enraged warg. With no idea what had caused it, she grasped greedily at the sudden focus and fired again. The orcs stopped laughing, slowing their swift advance and hurling insults. But they didn't stop.

Senga growled. They were being backed into the rock and there was nothing they could do. Gandalf was nowhere to be seen and she heard Dwalin's shout of rage. They were being put to the squeeze.

"Stand your ground!"

Thorin drew the elven sword with a hum that caught the morning breeze. Senga fired another shaft, determined to land as many hits before they came into melee. She stood out from the tor, choosing target after target, not stopping to second guess her position.

_Her heart beat, as if ticking off the seconds of her life._

She could smell their fetid breath as they came closer; saw their wicked fangs. Fangs that were meant to wound – daggers – and behind them they no doubt still had the triangular canines designed to rend flesh from bone. They had seconds, even as she fired. _Seconds before those teeth were upon them._

"This way, you fools!"

Gandalf...was stood _inside _the rock. It was a fissure, running the width of the structure to form a gaping maw, beneath which was –

_A way out._

"Come on!" Thorin roared. "Quickly, all of you!"

The company converged on the entrance behind her and Kili as they continued to fire, sliding one by one to safety as Thorin urged them on. It occurred to her that she should probably move – _now would, in fact, be a good time – _but she couldn't turn while the orcs still closed on the company. It was of more importance that she ensured their escape. That was her _job_.

One of the rider-less wargs sprinted suddenly at its disappearing quarry, bypassing Senga entirely to dash itself on Thorin with a snarl. Further out and in front, Kili hadn't moved either.

"Kili!"

The archer whipped around at his uncle's shout and started to sprint back towards the rock.

_Time to go._

Senga stepped backwards, noting keenly that they had barely thinned the numbers now congregating on all sides. _What if they were followed?_

She loosed an arrow into the warg's eye.

She was aware of Thorin and Fili behind her, Kili gaining on their position, before she made to turn. Suddenly every hair on her neck stood on end; her nostrils full of the stench of filth and blood.

She didn't even have a chance to run.

* * *

**_A.N: So that was chapter nine! Sorry it took so long, but needs must as the life of a second year Biology major drives. The title more or less speaks for itself, but I did want something with only one word and two syllables to provide some contrast to the names I've used up till this point._**

**_Again with the rabbits - I've found myself developing the character of the lead buck more and more the more I consider him! It's amazing what a little idea can bloom into. And I was inspired (directly through the way the buck communicates and indirectly by through character purpose and development) by Terry Pratchett's Death of Rats._**

**_The chase sequence was something I loved doing - shot to shot; action flowing smoothly so that it can be sculpted almost by how soft or sharp you make the descriptions. Also, Senga's failed shots: they make her seem more human, and I wanted to emphasise again the fact that her skill in combat is far from perfect, even if she _is _good with the weapon when she's on form or in practice. Or not over-thinking it, which is sort of the point._**

**_The first bit took ages to perfect, and I cut it down in the end because it dragged on too long. I think it came out well, but splitting the perspectives so many ways is always risky. You'll notice i didn't do it for the second half so as not to break it up, and I think it works better if the majority of it is Senga POV centric. Still, it is enlightening writing for the others; exploring their mindsets as the writer (and I suppose informative for the audience)._**

**_I've referenced more roll play here: for the layman, a d6 or a d10 or whatever is the sides of the dice being rolled to gain the final score. So, 2d10 is roll two d10 dice and add the results. The plus bonus is added flat. Clear enough?_**

**_Always love to know what you think, and I always keep it in mind (even if it takes me a while to get round to it). So...reviews, precious?_**


	11. Tumbling Down

_**Chapter Ten**_

**Tumbling Down**

She turned, firing the arrow already tensed in the string, but she was far, _far _too close for it to save her. Her heart thudded in her ears. It took a split second to throw the wood from her fingers and reach –

_Thump._

The world inverted, throwing her implausibly away from the ground. For a split second, gravity itself was nauseatingly absent. Then she was enveloped in a hot, suffocating embrace that tossed her back, assaulting her with pain that was as if bricks had just dropped out of the sky and landed on her chest. What little breath remained left her in a scream. Everything closed in. The only thing between her and the warg was the slip of metal she'd managed to get into her hand _just. _The pressure on her wrist was like a hot poker, but it was her right leg that was truly on fire.

Someone screamed her name. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think. Her throat was clogged with the stench of the animal and its impact to her ribs, the sensation seeming to crush her entirely. She realised the creature must have dug into her leg at the thigh and there was blood pouring down her arms – but it wasn't hers. By some miracle she'd stuck the short sword through the back of its jaw, and it was this that was holding the muzzle away from her throat. The viscous liquid streamed over her hands and into her hair; onto her face. But she couldn't let go. It was her shield. She felt as if knives were going in to her wrist and wedging the bones apart, but she _could not let go_. She was still _fighting. _She shrieked with all the anger she could muster, even as the warg writhed.

But it was too heavy; too much. Her limbs shook. Her head physically hurt with the effort of holding off the pain and the _stink_ – she couldn't…(her vision tunnelled)…she couldn't keep going, she –

"AAAARRRRRRGG!"

For a moment she was irrationally distracted. The cry made something _sing_ in her suffocated blood. She'd never heard him sound like that. _The hell? Why did _he_ sound like that? Why (she remembered that night, looking to find him looking at her…when something had shifted in her chest)…why? Wh…_

Thorin hit the warg like a storm wave, shoving it from her. Pain lanced through her, even as she was pulled back from the brink, her entire being narrowed to holding in the scream. Her lungs were full of broken glass as they tried – and failed – to work.

"Kili!"

Thorin's voice sounded a long way off, though the vibration thundered in her ears. She was aware of being hauled to her feet and propelled towards the crack.

"_Oh Aulё,_ come on, _nearly there_," Kili's voice shook violently even as he tried to sound calm.

Senga wrenched herself desperately back together and forced her legs to take her weight. It hurt – _oh, holy FUCK it hurt! _– but she stayed on her feet, bringing her surroundings back into clarity. Kili was white as a sheet. Fili was behind him at the fissure, and Thorin –

_She was pressed into a barrel chest, an arm around her waist. The grip was immovable as the mountain. It had been there the whole time._

"Down we go!"

The chest was suddenly gone and she was in Fili's arms, sliding down, down. The sunlight vanished and the air was full of heavy breathing. Kili came down after them, and finally Thorin. The brothers held her close, stalwart in their positions in front of her. The wargs closed on the entrance; only a matter of time before discovering where their quarry went. Senga still couldn't get her chest to inflate – this was a problem. Spots danced in her vision as quickly as she tried to dismiss them, compounded by their close quarters and the pain ravaging her, dragging her away with it as she tried to resist.

Any second –

_Horns. Very specific horns, melding together as they drew closer._

She looked to Gandalf to see recognition spreading over his face as well. They could hear the commotion of horses and the panic of the orcs as they tried to resist the onslaught. A thud, a scream and without warning a rider fell heavily through the fissure and rolled onto the floor amongst them. Senga's blood froze – before she realised the creature was obviously dead. The noise faded; they were retreating. _They were gone._

Thorin stooped to grasp the shaft of an arrow sticking out of the orc's head.

"Elves." He said dully, casting the arrow away with dull disgust. He looked up at Gandalf, searching for something in the wizard's face.

They'd just been rescued by elves bearing the horns of Elrond.

_Right…okay…_

Senga bit on a growl as her lungs shredded, her eyes spiking suddenly. Instantly, Thorin's eyes were on hers, piercing and intense.

"Are you injured?"

Utilitarian. Nothing more. But the emotionlessness was a mask she knew well, even if she was in no state to try and see past it. And his to-the-point was…comforting. In the end, she said the only words that came clearly in her rapidly darkening brain.

"I canne breathe!"

Instantly, the air cleared. Thorin and Oin all but chased everyone else away – the only reason Thorin stayed was because he was too busy with her to notice Oin's exasperated glare. Ignoring his king's protests – and Senga's airless yelp of surprise – the old dwarf placed his hands on either side of her rib cage and gently pressed. The air stuttered in her throat, but only a little pain hummed through them, at least compared to what had recently racked her. Oin seemed to nod before removing his hands and putting them on her shoulders, easing her into a crouch. The old dwarf whispered soothing encouragement as he settled her down, looking over the blood on her face.

"Lassie, I need you to take deep breaths," he said patiently. "Long, deep breaths…tha's it! Go on!"

Senga shuddered with the agony of disturbing the bottle bank in her chest, but it did get easier. The burning gradually died down, the spots dissipating from her eyes. Suddenly her attention was given back to Oin as he looked from the blood to her eyes in growing alarm.

"Lassie..."

"Don' worry," She said croakily. "Most o' it's no' mine."

She pushed herself determinably to her feet, barely swallowing a scream as her thigh tautened. It…wasn't as bad as she'd thought. She gripped Kili's arm mercilessly as the brothers rushed to support her, but she didn't let them carry her. She did a mental check and managed to distinguish the pain.

Twisted knee: check.

Sprained wrist: check.

Claw stab wounds: check, but not debilitating. Maybe unhardened leather wasn't as useless as everyone thought. Or maybe she was just lucky. Either way there was nothing, _in theory_, that would stop her walking.

Bruised (but not cracked) ribs: check.

Not so bad then. She'd come away without permanent injury, as long as she was careful with the knee. She'd just begun to allow herself a morsel of victory, when Dwalin found his voice.

"Well, seems tha' was a lo' o' fuss for nothin'."

Senga's spine went rigid. Fury boiled past the need to care about her injuries as she started towards Dwalin. She was _done _with this. Balin raised a hand, but neither paid it attention.

"_Yeah_, 'cos I'm sure _YOU'VE _'ad HUNDREDS of wargs jump on your fuckin' chest! Knoin' YOU, they could've danced on your twatte' _HEAD _an' you wouldn' have bloody felt it!" She didn't give him a chance to respond before she was an inch from his face. "You're a fuckin' bastard, you kno' tha'? You treat me like I'm an unfortunate you dragged ou' of a fuckin' ditch – only, I wish you'd make up your mind whether I'm a prostitute or jus' a SPOIL' CHILD determined to _EMBARASS_ you! _SO FUCK YOU!_"

The last words she spat, at the same time shoving him in the hard in the diaphragm with the heel of her hand and all the forgers' muscles in her shoulder. It hurt – _good fucking_ _god _it _hurt_ – but Dwalin's surprised grunt made it absolutely worth it. And with that, she turned on her heel and strode down the path without a backwards glance.

* * *

"Well, I vote we go that way." Bofur's calm irony contrasted supremely with his expression. Balin shook his head, _pointedly _ignoring his stunned, red faced brother. To be honest, the image left him wondering what Dwalin had been expecting. He turned to the lads, both of whom looked furious.

"Wha' happened?"

"She got jumped." Fili snapped. "If she 'adn't been so quick with the knife…"

"She nearly got her throat torn out after standing and defending you lot!" Kili yelled accusingly. Balin felt bile rise in his throat.

_She could've been killed, right there, by an anonymous _warg _of all things._

Bofur's expression grew grim. The rest stood around in various states of shock, Ori looking as if he wanted to dash off after her. Dwalin had the decency to look ashamed, if not apologetic. Kili would've rounded on him had Thorin not intervened.

Balin ran a hand over his eyes.

"We should probably follow before she decides to leave us behind." He sighed. "No' tha' I would blame her – brother, I have _no_ sympathy." He added harshly as Dwalin let loose a wince. "We have a _duty_ to her, one way an' another!"

"I will have…_no duty…_to a little bit –"

"Dwalin, this is hardly the time to express your protests about the validity of our efforts and even less a time to trade insults!" Gandalf said suddenly, seeming to appear behind Fili and Kili. "And perhaps it would be _wiser_ to continue through the passageway, as Bofur so blithely suggested." He added pointedly. Dwalin growled dangerously before stomping in the endorsed direction, not looking at anyone.

One by one they followed, no one wanting too badly to catch up with the two ahead. Thorin glanced just once back at Balin. The lads were plodding despondently along behind him, and Bofur was more or less leading them all. They walked for hours in this way, the passageway open to the sunlight high above them. The fissure above them seemed like a river of gold set amidst the muted limestone, filling the air with sparkling dust. It was so quiet – almost shamefully so for a group of dwarves. But the weariness of heavy hearts hung in the air, holding them in its grasp. Suddenly, Kili appeared at his side with a frown.

"Why does Dwalin think Senga's sleeping with me?"

No preamble, just straight to the point. Balin stumbled on one of the rocks loose on the sandy floor. He took a moment to choose his words carefully.

"Because…he likes to think the worst of her. An' her affections for you."

"But it's not like that, I swear by Aulё!"

"I kno', laddie, I kno'! Bu' Dwalin doesn' want to see her as more than a human who has no righ' to be here an' who is, by extension, after our gold."

"But…Senga's never been in it for the gold."

Balin shook his head desolately.

"I _kno'_."

* * *

"_Bilbo Baggins, if there is one thing I've learnt _not_ to do it is to get between two dwarves when they are ready to fight. Especially if one is a woman and especially if both believe they are justified. 'Tis better to abandon such a fire and retreat until it has passed, hoping that it has not done irreparable damage."_

"_But Senga isn't a dwarf…"_

"_Well…no," the wizard conceded, a little evasively. "But it would be hard to deny her the heart of one, especially after weeks with their men."_

"_I just hope she doesn't start closing herself off again. It was so hard to get her to talk about anything when we first started this, and Dwalin's done nothing but treat her with distain and suspicion!"_

_Gandalf had no answer to that, but instead sighed wearily. He could only share the sentiment that they had not lost the little progress they had managed to make._

* * *

Senga simply stood. The effort of ceasing her march – given that it was only bitterness left to suppress the agony of each step – was great indeed. But for the sight that greeted her it was worth it all. Never had she dared imagine seeing it with her own eyes, the late afternoon sun spilling spectacularly down the falls and alighting on the rooftops and bridges, turning them softly golden as the light split subtly over the tumbling water. The added colour seemed to purposefully make visible the layer of magic surrounding the place, but it was not needed from her view high on the valley wall. The whole image seemed to hum.

A breeze stirred from below, fluttering over the grime on her skin and lifting the lank strands of her hair; cool and soothing. It isolated her there on the cliff top before the Hidden Valley. High, and wild, and free.

She would've shut her eyes, had that not meant divesting herself of the sight.

Somewhere behind her, heavy footsteps halted, announcing themselves with a low growl.

"_Bollocks._" Dwalin muttered harshly. Senga didn't turn, but on a whim (and possibly because the wind was softening the pain) she spoke, plainly and evenly.

"'s no' my desire to take from you, you kno'. From any o' you. Protection, gold…sex," she tried not to shudder at that last one. "'s no' wha' I wan'."

The dwarf seemed to consider her.

"Wha' _do _you wan'?"

She turned back then and looked – really looked – to see the unconvinced expression. The suspicion. Behind which was the disappointment. _Who the fuck was he to be disappointed?_

Before she could question it further, the rest were stepping out onto the ledge, all ranging from stunned to grave and a few staring between Senga and Dwalin. She was sure she felt Thorin staring, but as soon as she looked, his eyes were elsewhere. The clank of an axe shaft hitting rock punctured the heavy silence.

"The Valley of Imladris," Gandalf seemed in between relief and resignation, voice bold with the sudden promise of civility. "In the Common Tongue, it's known by another name."

"Rivendell." Bilbo said softly.

"Here lies the last Homely House east of the sea."

Thorin spun around, face hard.

"This was your plan all along – to seek refuge with our enemy."

"You have no enemies here, Thorin Oakenshield. The only ill-will to be found in this valley is that which you bring yourself!"

"You think the elves will give our quest their _blessing? _They will try to stop us!"

"Of course they will! But we have questions that need to be answered."

Senga, despite herself, smirked. _Cheeky bastard._

"If we are to be successful," the wizard seemed to straighten. "This will need to be handled with tact. And respect. And no small degree of charm." He took a heartbeat to survey the bedraggled group before him. "Which is why you will leave the talking to me."

Senga felt the snort in her throat at that, but it stuttered as she made to move again. Pain lacerated her right leg, threatening to crumple it from beneath her. She snapped her mouth shut to contain the hiss and disgustingly pathetic whimper that followed, instead putting her energy into forcing her strides to be even. It worked well enough as they descended the path, though the consequence of her concentration was a lack of attention to spare for anything else. Just the ground immediately in front of her feet. One foot after the other. Repeat. _Repeat._

"Aye, lass, we're nearly there." Bofur appeared sympathetically at her elbow, knowing better than to offer an arm, but rather keeping company as best he could. Senga couldn't help but tense. _Why couldn't she accept his comfort? _Her head came up and she stared resolutely ahead, face betraying nothing.

_She would _not _be weak._

_Even for Bofur? _The third thoughts questioned uncertainly. A sidelong look revealed his slight look of hurt, and his more prominent frown of concern. Guilt edged into her fuzzed brain, but she didn't know what to do. She'd never _had_ to know what to do, other than to move on. But Bofur cared about her, clearly, and she couldn't just walk away from him and Balin and Bilbo...and Fili and Kili.

_And Thorin._

_Why the fuck not? Why was so hard to go back to being alone? _

Sleep. She needed _sleep_.

Bifur joined his cousin and muttered something Senga wouldn't have been able to decipher had she known the language, his perceptive eyes catching hers. She looked away. The question in them was almost unbearable, especially since she had no idea how to answer it.

Fortunately, it was becoming more and more difficult not to be distracted by their surroundings. The path they were on grew steadily less ragged, the stone itself seeming to grow the patterns appearing on its surface. The swirling vines grew more frequent and more distinct, as if beckoning them, and the wind Senga had felt on the cliff whispered through their party. Almost as if it were scanning them. _Checking them. _When they reached the bridge it appeared all the dwarves had been put into a state of unease, glancing from innocent tree to elegant bush with mounting suspicion.

Then again, even these appeared to be more than what their eyes automatically processed. As if everything they were seeing held something of hidden in the common shroud of magic permeating the area. In the bloom of summer, the foliage was lush and soft, the earth rich, and the steady rush of water met her ears far below them as they crossed, the noise in tandem with the whispering breeze. Nevertheless, even given the childhood spun associations of peace and astonishing beauty being confirmed as the elvish city loomed before her eyes, she had to admit it was all a bit creepy. The sentinel statues either side of the end of the bridge seemed to watch as they passed between, clad as they were in the garb of their carvers. Peaceful…except they were in full battle gear.

Despite the grim battle she still fought with the pain, another smirk tugged the corners of her mouth. Yes, elves were beautiful, glamorous even.

_No one ever said they had to be nice._

She was about to pass between the sentinels when it happened. For a split second, her world flashed with the force of a thunderclap and she was met with a pair of deep, almond-shaped eyes the colour of the sky at dawn. The look was fathomless, _beyond_, searching silently.

Then it was gone. She blinked.

"Senga?" Bilbo was staring at her, alarm creeping up his features, and she realised she was stood stone-still before the gap.

_Did I imagine that?_

"Lassie?"

Half the company were looking now and the thought snapped her out of her the daze. _Jesus. _She raised her foot…and did _not _imagine the fireball of agony that twisted up her right leg, released at last from her concentrated ignorance of it. It trembled violently before finally refusing to take her weight, almost pitching her off her feet had she not balanced quickly on her other leg with a strangled, closed-mouth howl.

"I was wonderin' when tha' was goin' to break." Oin said dryly.

"Aye, tha' knee's lasted longer than any of us would o' though'." Gloin looked between natural concern and the sort of look you gave a teenager in a strop.

Breathing hard and flushing with shame, Senga clamped her jaw in place and reigned in her composure to take one, _two_ (not looking at anyone) _three – _

"Miss Senga, you'll do yourself a real injury if you keep doing that!" Dori pointed out exasperatedly. Senga rocked to a halt on her good leg, about to bite out an insult when movement caught her eye at the top of the flight of stone steps leading away into the city proper. She tensed automatically, and swept her eyes over –

_Okay. She'd probably never trust tall men. At least they were right about them being fair._

The elf met her eyes fluidly as she looked him over, cocking his head a little to the side as if curious to see what she was. He continued down the steps, unphased by her gaze, feet utterly silent until _he_ chose to announce his presence. Everything from the way he moved to the way he seemed to have all the time in the world reminded her of a sleek cat, moving languidly along a wall. She felt grubby in comparison.

Far from being embarrassed, she raised an eyebrow at him. The elf seemed surprised – more surprised than he already was at the sudden appearance of a group of dwarves – and appeared to file this away before flicking his gaze abruptly from her to the wizard and calling a greeting.

"_Mithrandir!_"

"Ah, Lindir!"

Senga felt something at her shoulder. She turned and was shocked to find Thorin suddenly behind her, glaring at the elf to whom she was actually the closest.

"_We heard you had crossed into the Valley_," Lindir continued in seamless Elvish, the lilting words struggling to resolve themselves as Senga dredged up her slightly rusted knowledge. Still, it eventually came naturally as she recalled teaching it to herself in the lighter moments of her youth. As a child, she'd wanted to sound graceful – detached – and magical; _afterwards _she'd learned Klingon.

But she never forgot.

"My lord Elrond is not here."

"Not here? Where is he?"

The sound of trumpets behind them made them turn, Thorin inexplicably taking the opportunity to put himself between her and Lindir. Senga scowled at him, awkwardly stumbling back like the gawkiest damsel in the world. She realised suddenly that this was all she was to them; a burden to be protected because of the word of an old dwarf and a wizard. At that moment, she couldn't decide what made her more _annoyed_: the dwarves' irrational over-reaction to the elves, or the fact that, in the end, she'd proved to be just as much a useless, get-in-the-way, _bollockless_ _maiden _as she'd feared back at the trollshaws.

It might have made it better if she'd even been excessively pretty or innocent. But she wasn't. _Just no. _She'd been trying. And she'd failed.

Elrond's horsemen weren't slowing as they cantered across the bridge. The fact seemed to dawn on the dwarves and she and Bilbo were launched mercilessly into the centre of a protective circle, but Senga was long past caring what the rest were doing. As the horsemen circled, sat proud and fair in the high stirrups, she threw her head back, arms crossed, and sought out Elrond. The elf lord was resplendent in an interlocking red plate that offset the winding patters of his circlet, an orc sword in his hand. Clearly returned from the hunt. He dismounted, oblivious to her stare, and greeted Gandalf fondly.

Her third thoughts watched for a moment, observing the touch and open affection he offered the wizard.

She shoved curiosity away in favour of a closed glare. As if on cue, the elf's eyes swivelled round in mild surprise (as if he'd seen her from the start but chosen to do things in respectable order). Senga held the eyes that had seen the turning of the world for over four millennia and opened her mouth.

_Always a bad sign._

_PISS OFF!_

"_That was discourteous._"

The effect was instant. Whether it was because she'd just accused _Elrond _of being discourteous whilst being herself covered from head to foot in blood, sweat, ash and mud (not even considering what she probably _smelled _like) or whether it was because she'd said it in flawless Sindarin, but she was suddenly the centre of _riveted _attention.

For the dwarves, she considered it was probably the latter as they practically leapt away from her.

To her surprise – and the surprise of the assembled elves – Elrond's mouth twitched.

"_It seemed the appropriate precaution to the presence of so many heavily armed dwarves at our gates, though in hindsight you are correct and I do apologise for my lack of manners._"

"What are they sayin'?" Dwalin hissed venomously as Elrond dipped his head, a disarming juxtaposition of humbled politeness and barely suppressed amusement. The result made her want to punch him – which would've been counterproductive with how much he was helping her disturb the dwarves. The dilemma was unexpectedly frustrating, and her leg _ached_, though the pain seemed less important than before.

"_Might I inquire as to your purpose in Imladris, my lady?_"

"I'm no' a lady." Senga snapped suddenly, reverting back to English with bitterness welling in every word. "As to why I'm here, I suggest you ask them." She glared at Gandalf and jerked her head back at the dwarves, refusing to look at any of them as she strode away, feeling as if the air were congealing in her lungs. "_Fucked if I kno'._"

She found a low stone bench to fall onto and shut her eyes against a sudden wave of dizziness.

"Senga?"

Her eyes opened to find Balin's soft blue staring into them and an uncertain hobbit close at her elbow.

"You needn't take on so." The latter said firmly, putting a hand on her arm. Senga stared at it; could feel how uncertain it was. The dwarf on the other hand, was disquietingly sure. Pointedly ignoring the elephant in the room, Balin got straight to the point.

"Now…look a' me, lassie…how bad is tha' leg?"

"Jus' a scratch." Senga shook her head, mumbling tiredly. Balin didn't accept it for a moment. With a grim frown, he knelt and moved her overcoat aside. Even this change in weight was enough to shoot spears into her bone, but it was only when he touched his fingers to the rents in her trousers that the scream ripped itself through her jugular, stopped by her clamped lips.

"Jus' a scratch, _my beard!_"

Bilbo inhaled sharply, looking as if he might faint. She didn't think it was _that _bad…

"Lassie, these are deep! Knoin' those foul things, it's probably already infected, though I'll have to ge' Oin's opinion. You'd better stay off it for the time bein', an' _for Mahal's sake why didn' you say anythin'?_"

Senga bleakly tried to summon defiance, but it didn't come out right while faced with Balin's consternation. Instead she stayed silent, looking away to see the rest of the dwarves – and behind them, the elves – watching uncertainly from several paces back. It sent a pang through her to see Fili and Kili hanging back, wary and silent of her, _but hadn't she meant to shock them?_

The point was lost to her. All she wanted was sleep and…and…

_How had she gone from acknowledging her desire to do nothing else with her life to wanting out?_

_Coward._

She hadn't the strength left to counter the venomous voice and tried to stay from cracking apart. She'd left herself vulnerable, clearly. She'd taken down some of the weaker walls, but she hadn't counted on how weakened that would make the rest. _Fool. _She'd been _careless._ _She'd _–

"No, she's _ours _an' we'll take care o' her!"

"My dear Oin, Lord Elrond is one of the finest healers in Middle Earth! It would be folly not to accept his help in this matter!"

"I'm no' lettin' some tree-shagger anywhere near her until _I'm _satisfied she's _okay!_"

"You may accompany me to the healing chambers, Master Oin, but I assure you she will receive the best of care. As our guests, any less would be highly untoward of us."

There was a low grumble, and several more in agreement. Then,

"Mister Oin!"

The chiding remark made Senga open her eyes. She hadn't realised they'd been shut. Kili was giving Oin a look of deepest exasperation as he broke away from the loitering dwarves and went about pulling her to her feet. Balin protested and Senga swore violently, no longer bothering to conceal it, but eventually Kili managed to get her weight across his side so that he was practically carrying her before turning to face the rest of the company. Thorin was caught between different levels of fury; Oin looked torn, while Gloin looked as if he was having trouble comprehending the situation. Dwalin's face had gone white with anger; Bofur, Dori, Ori, Bombur and Bifur were transitioning between shock and horrified ferocity. Nori was…_impressed? At what?_

Fili was nowhere to be seen – because he was round her other side, letting her use his shoulder as leverage to hoist her good foot off the ground. Any other of the dwarves and she would've felt the same bitterness, but with a bizarre rush of relief she found it absent for the brothers. Craving for their warmth and _safety_ selfishly overpowered the other voices, drowning them out until it was all she could feel.

She shut her eyes; didn't want to see the rest of them. But when she felt those storm eyes searching ruthlessly for hers, she couldn't keep them closed. She looked into those that were full of anger: fury at her stupidity, annoyance at her invalidity, resignation at her continued _burden_, and white hot rage at her betrayal. There was also a war going on, but Senga didn't give time for it as her head bowed, taking her away from how _wretched _that look made her feel.

"Master Oin, if you would attend with me. But before such things, I will not be further accused of discourtesy. Welcome Thorin, son of Thrain."

This had the effect of distracting the Company who each looked back to the elf lord.

"I do not believe we have met." Thorin voice was gravelly with repressed anger.

"You have your grandfather's bearing."

Courtesy was offered, and the dwarf returned it with an insult. No surprises there. The speech in Sindarin Elrond offered next – in actuality directed at his men – had Senga raising her eyebrows, however, as did the tone in which it was delivered. Yes, the elf was slighted. The dwarves shifted uneasily.

"What is he sayin'?" Gloin began murderously, at the end of his tether. "Does he offer us insult?"

"He's bein' sardonic, bu' I wouldn' call i' insul'." Elrond's eyes flicked back to hers as she rolled them tiredly. "'e's called for food."

Nori seemed to look even more impressed, turning and whispering animatedly to his elder brother. The whole Company seemed to regard her for a moment, before rapidly discussing it and finally turning back to Elrond.

"Ah well, in tha' case, lead on."

"_The way to a dwarf's heart._" Fili muttered in her ear. And, despite everything, she let loose the shadow of a grin.

* * *

The healing chambers were light and airy and looked for all the world as if they'd been grown for their purpose. Everything was coloured gold or pale straw or the sort of white that comes from lightly coloured wood – except the flowers and greenery that appeared everywhere unexpected. Whorls and weaving patterns formed integral parts of the walls and floor and the very air seemed infused with the freshness that fell from the waterfall. The buildings themselves were all wood lattices and delicate domes with sweeping archways connecting the various rooms.

Next to her, the dwarves muttered about it all being 'flimsy' and 'dainty', and to an extent she could see their point. There was none of the reassuring _weight_ of stone or the commanding surety of dwarven architecture. Still, they were _guests_ and _griping _about it was getting on her nerves. Causing Kili some pain as she hopped unsubtly onto his foot.

The younger brother let out a huff, but deferred further speech as they steered her to a bed. Oin – and Balin and Bilbo and Bofur, who had _insisted _on joining them – tried to help, making them look like a travelling circus. In the end, she ripped her arms out of their grip and launched herself at the mattress with a scowl. Unwittingly, she ended up sprawled over it and unable to move, so she curled to the side, miserably beginning to catalogue the mess she'd caused.

_She was a burden. She'd failed them._

"_Drink this. It will make you feel better._" Elrond offered out of nowhere, his continued use of elvish disturbing the rest there.

"Migh' I suggest you use words we can all understand?" Balin snapped irritably. Ignoring him, Elrond gently coaxed her into a sitting position and offered her a vial.

"_Miruvor_." Senga muttered tonelessly.

"Correct. A restorative," he confirmed for Oin as the old dwarf cast the liquid a look of deepest suspicion. "It will also dull the pain for a time. Drink."

Senga grimaced. She'd always loathed mineral water. The miruvor however…the taste was slightly sweet, slightly bitter with an edge to it like mint. The effect was incredibly refreshing and she could feel her brain being re-started. Disconcertingly, she thought of ecstasy – something she'd only had once or twice – but something told her it was magic that was waking her up this time rather than mind-altering drugs. The pain also faded considerably.

Elrond took the vial from her once she'd drained it completely and she nodded dully. Now Oin was eyeing her leg.

"Righ', trousers off."

_What?_

"Excuse _me _for bein' dubious abou' sittin' round in my nickers in fron' o' you lo'!"

"Lassie, it's goin' to have to be cleaned!" Oin retorted exasperatedly, oblivious to the exasperated look Elrond gave him. Senga met his eyes with an immovable glare.

"No fuckin' way!"

"Senga, please!" Kili begged, sitting next to her now on the bed. "You 'ave to let us help you!"

"We can go away and come back if you like." Bilbo added hastily.

"You'll still see me in my underwear!" _And see the scars_, she thought with rising panic.

"Lass, it's not like there's any one of us here that'd take advantage." Bofur pointed out reasonably.

"Senga?" Fili sat gently down on her other side, not quite touching her, but close enough that she could reach out if she wanted. Or needed. Not that she willingly would.

"Fine." She said eventually, voice so quiet it was hard to hear it herself. There was no avoiding it. Any anger she had left scurried away and died, leaving a pit of fear and resignation in its wake. She'd never felt more exposed – or more alone.

"Do you – do you want us to leave?" Bilbo asked uncertainly. Senga shook her head harshly. _She still had bitterness, apparently. _And what was the point if they would see anyway? Better to get it done.

Surprising everyone, she reached down to her belt and removed the short sword before pulling the leather away with a _shnik_. Without taking off her overcoat (it felt ridiculously protective for some reason) she unlaced the leather pants and shoved them down her legs, glad the disgusting feeling of open air against her skin was drowned by the pain. She screwed her eyes shut, not wanting to see anymore, and kicked the pants off her ankles.

She heard, though, the array of sharp breaths.

"Oh, _lass_…"

Senga shut it all out, focussing on nothing as a water bowl and stitches were provided, along with a salve that stung when Oin applied it gently to the cleaned wound. Now out in the open, she could feel the way it was swollen, it wasn't too advanced yet and once the salve got to work it would go down quickly enough. No one said a word as the work was finished, Senga staying silent with the worst of the pain dampened by the miruvor. When it was done and a bandage wrapped tightly around the rents, she just sat there, waiting for what was going to happen next.

It was like being in hospital again.

"We'll have to ge' these cleaned," Balin sighed unexpectedly. "The linin's soaked through."

Senga opened her eyes in confusion to find seven pairs trained on the movement and flinched. That moment might have been _it. _Seriously. Except that she was suddenly being squeezed half to death by Kili. The dwarf was refusing to let her go, mumbling something that sounded like "_don't ever do that again_" into her shoulder. Fili was scrambling to fetch a sheet and returned in an instant to help wrap it around her midriff, hugging her from round the back. The effect was _bizarre_, but it pulled her from the wreckage of her thoughts like giving an oxygen tank to a drowning man. It soothed her; even _comforted _her as the others chuckled.

"Are you feeling quite well enough for dinner?" Elrond inquired politely, light tones adding to the improved mood. "If so, I will have my attendants prepare you clothing and water to bathe."

Senga raised her eyebrows, but sandwiched between the brothers and still filthy and wearing a sheet, she could hardly argue the point. Instead she nodded and murmured a thank you, giving the brothers their cue to let her go. Reluctantly, the dwarves and Bilbo allowed themselves to be led away to be shown where they would be staying, Kili finally breaking contact with a squeeze of her hand, and she was left alone in the airy room.

_What just happened? _She wondered. Her woken mind was whirring strangely – _fucking elvish hippy drugs – _but she did feel better, somehow, for the boys' undemanding presence.

"Am I to assume you are the dwarf maiden?"

Senga felt her neck crick as she wheeled round to see a fair elf woman standing in the archway.

"_Yes, but I'm not a dwarf or a maiden, so you might as well know my name now: it's Senga._" The elf looked taken aback by her native tongue and more so by the words themselves, but she bowed nonetheless and smiled warmly.

"_Very well lady Senga –_"

"_Just Senga._"

Disquietingly, the elf smiled even more.

"_Just Senga. Follow me, if you will whilst I lend you my arm._"

Senga dearly wanted to get up and stride right past her, but she didn't want to rip the stitches and it did still hurt to buggery. She begrudgingly accepted and allowed the woman to guide her away from the healing chambers, a smile playing the elf's lips.

Senga just hoped that she still had the strength to face the company.

* * *

_**A.N: This took ages to edit. Mostly I decided this: that I was taking far to long to get things moving along. That I needed to save some things for later. So I took buggerloads out of the first couple of sequences. Also I cut down the warg encounter so as to maintain the pace of the scene. I originally had Senga being introspective, but it came out as slowing everything down.**_

_**So, references...Oh yeah, I looked up what to do if someone's winded. Crouching apparently relaxes the diaphragm. And it works even with her leg injuries a) because of adrenaline and b) because of Kili supporting her weight. The line "No one ever said they had to be nice" is adapted from Terry Pratchett's opinion on elves and how their traditional descriptions can be twisted round. The quote is a long one and goes something like this "Elves are wonderful; they provoke wonder. Elves are fantastic; they create fantasies. **__**Elves are glamorous; they project glamour. **__**Elves are enchanting; they weave enchantment. Elves are terrific; they beget terror. No one ever said elves are nice."**_

_**Senga knowing Elvish was a given. The point about Elvish and Klingon was meant to be heavily symbolic of her character and her changed outlook on life (from predominantly escapist to predominantly fighting). But it also gives direct evidence to the point that Senga is far more clever than she thinks she is. That it is a given stems from the fact that a Tolkien fanatic with a flare for languages would know elvish since it is readily learnable.**_

_**Ahha... psychic flashes...more on that later...**_

_**Review to let me know it's still good? (I always worry about keeping the quality consistent, specially now I'm distractedly being forced to do real work. And playing Skyrim - I apologise profusely for this, but the game is fucking addictive)**_


	12. Time for Tea

_**Chapter Eleven**_

**Time for Tea**

Balin tried to bully order to his mind as he watched both lads envelope their Senga. It was such a sweet moment it made him want to laugh – in fact he did, a little. At the same time the way she was almost confused by the love they showed her; by their _staying_ _at her side_, was heart-breaking. Still harder to bear were the marks on her now-covered legs. In the young skin were chips and gouges; nicks and patchworks of pinkish scarring. Most were ordinary looking, if far more numerous than they should've been. But then there were the marks that looked like burns but which were perfectly circular; rough and deep. As if they were made with purpose.

It brought bile to his mouth.

Yet even those didn't make him feel half as sick as the glimpse they'd had of her inner thighs. There, raised cleanly away from the surface, were a matched pair of thin, white lines, one on each leg. Running straight as a nail. _Precise. _All the way up from the crook of each knee to…to…

Balin had the sudden, inexplicable urge to make something _bleed_. He wanted something to scream for those scars; to feel the violence of what had been done to her. Looking sideways, he could tell Bofur was having similar notions. The toymaker had more or less adopted her as his own goddaughter – or _their _own as he'd say. He had the feeling Senga didn't quite see it that way, but right now she had at least four dwarves (_and one hobbit_, Balin corrected himself, seeing Bilbo's expression) who were ready to find and murder the bastards who'd _dared_ leave such marks. Who'd _dared hurt her. _Who'd –

They were all the way to the guest chambers that had been prepared for them before he could speak again. Before he could think again.

"_How is she?"_

"_Fine."_

"_It wasn't too bad, was it?"_

"_No."_

"_But she was –"_

"_Ori!"_

Before they'd been ushered away, Balin was half-way through a vow never to leave her side again…before realising that was both hopelessly impractical and an insult to her independence. Instead he vowed that nothing like that would ever happen again. _Not to her. _She'd suffered so and now he'd _seen it, _and she could've been killed not a few hours ago…

The old dwarf felt weary and wretched. He sought the eyes of the two Senga trusted the most and wasn't surprised to discover mirrored turmoil. One set of brown and one of blue; at once horrified and confused and anguished. The blue, admittedly, more comprehending (and so more sickened) than the brown. He hoped his look made his vow clear enough for them, for they would _never _discuss this.

Not until Senga gave them leave.

Not until she trusted them enough to _tell _them.

He sighed heavily.

And in the meantime…_elves. _They were in a city of _elves. _He'd been disappointed to find the guest rooms as poorly constructed as the hospital and suspected that the whole place was the same. To say that Balin found the situation distasteful was the understatement of the century, and they were expected to be _polite_. _Charming_. Considering the stress of the previous hour, Balin would much rather have gone another round with the wargs.

But, he was a man of appearance. He washed up and changed into a fresh tunic. He limited his weapon set to the knife in his belt (strictly for emergency purposes) and he hitched on a mask of civility.

As opposed to Dwalin who turned up looking as if he'd just stumbled off a battlefield.

Balin had to resist outright glaring at his brother as the dwarves finally assembled together on Elrond's patio, overlooking the west side of the valley. He stuck his eyes to the vista without seeing it and claimed a place at the large dining table. Thorin had yet to arrive (Balin was anxious to see how he was taking all of this) and Senga still hadn't reappeared. The latter he was less concerned about: women would be women and naturally take longer than men to appear for diner, given the chance. Not that he expected Senga to arrange herself in finery – she abhorred 'appearances' and refused to take on cloaks of beauty or nobility or even the desire to impress. The cloak she had was one of purest self-assurance and what she would refer to as 'no bullshit'.

Balin suspected she'd be actively terrifying in finery, and chuckled lowly.

"You think our king's waiting to offer her courtesy again?" Bofur asked Balin quietly, an innocent smile contrasting his sparking eyes. "For her injuries of course."

Balin sighed, resigned to Bofur's easy change of mood. Not that it wasn't a welcome relief to his anger. Though Balin knew the wrath of many dwarves to be greater than the toymaker, the sheer wrongness of seeing it so powerful in Bofur had been disturbing.

"I think," he said, equally quietly (although Bilbo was more or less included in the conversation at this point). "We'll have to wai' and see."

"She's probably still thinking about what Dwalin said." Bilbo pointed out bluntly. Bofur's face fell.

"Aye. And if we're lucky she'll give him a proper what for for his fine choice of words today."

"She's probably taken them to heart." Bilbo said miserably. Balin passed a hand over his eyes.

"Laddie…" but he couldn't think of anything to say and so gave up and set his hands in a futile gesture over the table. What they _weren't _talking about hung heavy in the air. He turned to the hobbit who was seemingly deep in thought.

"I suppose there are worse places if she decides to leave us." He mused quietly. Bofur choked.

"Don't say such awful things, lad!"

"We'll certainly no' leave her here, of all places!"

"But…" Bilbo looked horribly confused as he stared around him, apparently unable to see fault. "Balin –"

"Well, look who scrubbed up for the tree-shaggers."

Dwalin's loud voice directed them to Thorin's appearance, both in fact scrubbed and thoroughly unimpressed. He cast a withering look to Dwalin – who seemed taken aback at the level of anger it contained – and proceeded to check on each of their welfares in turn. Balin saw his eyes do a scan of the table every few seconds, and knew he was seeking their absentee lass. He seemed unable to focus on any one emotion in that respect: anger, confusion, more anger, guilt, concern, frustration –

"Don't fret, uncle," Fili said reasonably, reaching for a plate of bread. "She was perfectly fine when we left her."

Thorin's eyes zoomed in on the young dwarf, widening slightly. Fili's voice and expression had been perfectly equitable, but Balin was certain he was fighting a smirk. Kili cast him a sideling look of confusion that caused his brother to raise his eyebrows in an 'are-you-really-that-thick' look, before ignoring them both and munching on the bread (still fighting a laugh). Thorin scowled and looked away, pacing up and down the table.

"She'll be alright with the elves?" Ori asked worriedly.

"Didn't you notice 'ow canny she was earlier with 'em?" Nori gave his brother a bemused expression. "She'd probably do better than most of us."

"Aye, she's conniving if tha's wha' your implying." Gloin rumbled dangerously.

"She's not conniving!" Kili countered, hurt.

"I was actually offering a compliment."

"Oh, tha' makes i' better, does i'? Havin' the praise o' a thief!"

"Oi! I'll thank you kindly not to say such things again at the table, Mister Gloin!" Dori shot Gloin a glare as Nori rolled his eyes.

"Either way," Oin said firmly, effectively silencing everyone else. "She's far stronger than she looks."

No one had anything to say to that. Not even Dwalin, though that might have had something to do with the ache he was still nursing from her punch to his chest. Thorin looked more troubled than ever, and Balin hoped Senga would at least hurry up before he drove himself batty. He was still waiting on Elrond and Gandalf too (they'd been sequestered for more than an hour now, talking away).

"She's still no' one o' us," Dwalin said quietly, though everyone still heard him clearly. "Today – nay, the pas' weeks o' our journey – haven' changed tha'." He looked hard up at Thorin. "She's no' even _tha'_ pretty."

Bifur barked a protest from the end of the table, frowning indignantly. Dwalin huffed frustratedly.

"Alrigh', alrigh' she _is _tha' pretty bu' the point still stands!"

"I accepted her as a member of this company at the request of the wizard and your brother. If you have a valid objection to this, I would hear it now." The King's voice was low with warning and it was as close to 'who-in-the-name-of-Mahal-is-she-Dwalin' as he was likely to go in front of everyone. Dwalin's face was full of unconcealed loathing as he opened his mouth…and shut it again.

"The bes' decision you've made all day, brother."

Dwalin turned his thunderous expression on Balin, who felt more than a small pang. _How had it come to this?_

"If you think for one _momen'_ –"

"Well, sweet Aulё…"

They all looked up in confusion before Balin followed Bofur's gaze and felt his jaw go slack.

* * *

"_If you need assistance –_"

"_I'll be fine._ _Thank you._"

"_I shall have the new clothes laid out on the bed, and when you are finished you shall have someone sent to assist you._"

"_I'm sure they'll line up to volunteer._"

"_Undoubtedly. Farewell just-Senga._"

Senga stared after the elf, trying hard to be more amused than creeped out. She used the walking stick (generously lended) to limp around the room, feeling like a crippled mudcrab. It was hateful, but a more bearable evil than the pain, so she bore it with at least partial good grace. Her wrist twinged, but it only really, _really_ hurt if she tried to hold something up, which was a good sign.

The room…wasn't.

She felt fairly sure that if she'd visited all the top-end hotels in the most prestigious locations, none of them would've even come close. It was _beautiful. _And huge. The room itself seemed equipped for just about anything a person could want for in a bedroom and at least three doors lead directly seemed to be made of a soft beige or silver coloured wood bearing the intricate carvings common to the rest of the buildings. And yet, there were more images everywhere; the sort of thing you didn't see until you saw it. Animals and plants – mostly flowers and birds. The art above the headboard made a tree that encompassed the entire wall and curled up onto the ceiling. They were on the walls, on the lintels, on the bookcase, on the sofa, on the balcony – _oh god_ _she had a room with a fucking balcony! _In contrast to everything else, this was constructed from stone and offered a spectacular view over the city and the gorge that swept beyond it.

In the back of her mind, she suspected Elrond hadn't offered the rest of the company such a room (there was something off about this being a guest room), but even a cupboard would've probably been fucking beautiful here.

Eventually (after un-sticking her brain) she managed to get around the biggest bed she'd ever seen and to the door which presumably lead to the bathroom, adorned with the image of a fountain. With a moment spared to trace the astonishing detail that had been put into the artistry, she pushed it open.

She regretted it, in the end, because it meant standing like a berk in the doorway, trying to take it in. There was a sort of vanity unit built into the centre of the wall immediately to the left of the door, surrounded by sunken shelves upon which were a myriad of things from oil bottles to flowers in vases. The light was completely different, as were the colours. Stone made up the majority of the materials, though there was conspicuous evidence of polished wood. The vases and vials provided an array of emeralds and violets and navy blues, as did the casements of the lamps around the walls. But it was the stained glass window set into the ceiling that made the scene truly surreal, bathing the whole right side of the room in emerald, sapphire blue and deep purple, purple being the dominant.

There was another window (floor to ceiling) to provide normal light for the mirror over the vanity, covered by a gossamer shroud of silver-white, and a door that presumably gave privacy to the amenities. Feeling slightly dazed, Senga hopped in, shut the door, and limped over to the curtain. Beyond was a view of a grove that grew around a little tributary of the river. She could just see the bridge beneath the weeping branches and frowned.

_Whose rooms were these exactly?_

She shook her head, _knowing _the answer but not quite able to accept it.

Instead, her eyes roamed dreamily around the thing that was taking up the majority of the space. Directly beneath the sky-window was a bath. _No_, actually that would imply she couldn't swim in it (present state notwithstanding) and given the size and depth she _probably _could. It was square shaped, about half again the size of the biggest jacuzzis and was sunk straight into the floor with a levelled step going down all around the edge. The step was obviously designed for shallow bathing in its own right: it was nearly two feet wide and offered a sort of lounge position at the corners. And there were more carvings (_obviously_) though they were subtle, preferring broad spiralling patterns that omitted obvious grooves or otherwise irritating textures.

_The time it must have taken to perfect…_

To cap it all off, someone had clearly been told to expect her and the bath-jacuzzi-swimming pool was full of hot water that released a heady cloud of perfumed steam into the warmed air.

_Good fucking god…_

Needless to say, it was the best bath of her _life_. The water was silky when she finally lowered herself into it, kissing her naked skin with elemental finesse and making her hair fan as she tipped her head back. For the longest time, she simply floated, forgetting who she was and what she'd been doing. Cares and time floated away from her like the lapping of ocean waves and she drifted, content to have her mind completely and blissfully empty.

Unfortunately, she couldn't just fall asleep floating in the bath, so she resignedly set about actually washing up. It was more difficult than one might have imagined with the stitches so high on her leg, but with perseverance she managed to avoid submerging it completely and succeeded in washing her hair properly for the first time in weeks. The vial with the note (in Sindarin) '_recommended for the hair_' worked like magic. She still had to hack through the knots once she got out, but the result when she did (combined with her still tingling skin) was decadent. She avoided catching sight of _herself_ in the mirror, not wanting to break the illusion, and so limped out of the bathroom feeling selfishly content.

It was only when the cooler air hit her that she remembered why she was there.

Remembered what had happened.

Remembered _what_ she was.

She felt sick.

Lips curling in self-disgust, she swept her eyes over the bed and spotted her pack by the chest at its foot…and the provided clothes.

There was a pair of fine boots, a fine coat with a high collar in muted silver, and a dress. It was immediately obvious that the hem had been pinned up to accommodate her size, but it was otherwise unchanged. The material looked like a combination of cotton, satin and velvet, intricately stuck together into many different swathes and patches. Using these, the makers had included as many shades of green as Senga thought were possible to have (and then a few more just for giggles).

The bottom seemed to be churning in her stomach, making her feel infinitely worse. Still, she couldn't go out there in a blood-soaked shirt and a towel. _Unfortunately._ Awkwardly, she wriggled and jerked her way into the garment and pulled it agitatedly until _finally _it felt right. Her chest felt horribly exposed by the sweeping oval neck as it dipped down and _down_, just shy of being overtly revealing. She knew she'd have to bully her hair into covering the scars. The angel sleeves just felt excessively clumsy, flying all over the place. And they rebelled against actually covering her forearms – or her wrists. The bloody skirts still managed to trail on the floor.

All in all, she was hacked off about the dress. She refused to limp-hop her way back to the mirror to see it, despite an upsurge of morbid curiosity. At least her hair was cooperating, falling languidly across her face and neck like a sheet of silk. It curled protectively around the scar that was plain on her chin like it always did, and Senga found she could at least live with _that_.

Lacing up her blood and mud encrusted boots (because there was only _so _far she would go) she hopped gawkily around on the stick, the now-free locket bouncing off her thorax, trying to assemble the dregs of her will. She half wished she could re-don her chain.

_Fuck this_.

Steeling herself harshly, she'd just picked up her own leather coat when there was a knock.

"May I come in?"

Senga wasn't sure which surprised her more: the English, or the male voice. With a wary expression she yelled a nondescript assent and started limping towards the door.

The elf was tall (obviously) had long dark hair (the more likely probability) and fae-blue eyes (making her wonder as to how much imagination elves really had) yet there was something about him. Perhaps it was the simplicity of what he wore; the lack of jewellery, even in his hair, or the way the red-brown seemed to suit him down to the ground. More likely it was the disarming smile that seemed _elegantly_ lodged between curious and mildly amused. The confidence behind it that suggested he would look at her the same way if she was brandishing a wineglass or a battle-axe. Either way the arresting glint in the blue eyes that so superseded the racial traits of his ilk clinched it.

Without changing expression, Senga finished her brief sweep of him and ended square on.

"Which are you then?"

Mild amusement turned to full-fledged delight with a quirk of the lips, not perturbed in the slightest by her abruptness. But still, he answered lightly, appearing merely politely curious as he absently examined his fingernails before looking up.

"Elrohir."

"Ah."

_Well fuck-a-doodle-do._

"Don' suppose you're the arm I was promised?"

"Indeed. Shall we?"

It was one of the most surreal experiences of her life: being led through the halls of the Last Homely House (on what she suspected was the scenic route) by one of Elrond's own sons. The elf himself stared unashamedly at her the whole way round, and in the end Senga felt like she wanted nothing more than spontaneously combust just to give him something more interesting to observe than her struggling to maintain pace. He didn't speak at all.

It was ten minutes before she realised he was doing it on purpose.

"_I would make a comment about you staring at my chest, but on you it'd probably be wasted._"

She felt rather than saw the eyebrows shoot skyward.

"_Which? The comment or the view?_"

Senga stopped dead, turning round to see the now shameless grin.

"_Both._" She responded acerbically.

"_My, but I am appalled at your opinion of my appreciation for such things, and needless to say you were wrong on both counts._"

"_So you were staring at my chest?_"

"_Did you wish me to?_"

She felt her jaw drop.

"_No_." She replied abruptly, sweeping back forwards. She felt the flush start near her ears and spread rapidly over her cheeks. Followed by the familiar irrational panic as soon as she tuned him from her line of sight. _The hell had just happened? _She flicked her head to the side, reacquiring him in her peripheral vision before anxiety could take over, and glared out in front.

_He's got about a millennia on you, and you just tried to out-sass him: what did you expect? _Her third thoughts piped up exasperatedly.

She locked her jaw in annoyance, feeling a combination of embarrassment and inadequacy wash through. Elrohir frowned slightly before switching suddenly back to his mute curiosity, watching her every move. Senga didn't say another word. Finally, they rounded a corner to the sight of the setting sun spilling onto stone stairs leading down. She put all her energy into getting down, putting one foot before the other; hopping and stumbling and shaking as she clutched the stick and Elrohir's arm. At the bottom, she straightened gracelessly, not looking at anything in particular, and stomped determinably on to the group she could just see through the stone trellises between.

_Those storm eyes, awash with betrayal and contempt. Livid. Disgusted._

She hadn't even realised she'd stopped.

"Senga?"

The elf sighed almost imperceptibly before coaxing her gently forward. She went dumbly, wave after wave of defeat drenching her until she drowned completely, eyes drifting to the indescribably beautiful view and seeing nothing else. Until Elrohir pranced unexpectedly forward and bowed low, locking his eyes on hers until she noticed before reaching and kissing her hand. The effect was like a car going into a brick wall.

"_Does this suffice for courtesy, Miss Senga?_"

Years later, Senga still didn't know _how_ she managed to look as if the act was a pleasant surprise and a mere extension of their previous interactions (with the dwarves _all _watching), but in that thunderbolt of a moment she felt like the most clear-headed sociopath on Ardra.

She even smiled. She bobbed her head. She took his offered arm and limped up to a place at the larger table between Balin and Bofur, who had stood to make room. She held her head loftily. As he settled her down, she spoke.

"_Yes, that suffices for courtesy._" She smiled warmly, aware that thirteen pairs of eyes were watching in horror. "_Try to do it again…_" she added a shy show of teeth. "…_and I'll break every bone in your hand._"

It was all she could do to hold back the savage smirk as his hand twitched convulsively, neck tensing for a second.

"_As you wish,_" he said chivalrously, bowing, and striding graciously away. She felt as if she had an armour aura as she reached for a salad, viciously satisfied at the dwarves who were now treating her as if she'd just announced she was Sauron's spirit incarnate. The musicians serenading the scene seemed shocked, but didn't interrupt their playing. The lack of speech carried on until Gandalf and Elrond appeared, making both pause in confusion.

"Ah…would it be wise to ask?" Gandalf voiced, sighing witheringly.

"Nope. Dori, would you min' passin' me the wine?"

* * *

_Drinking. Now that was something she knew how to do. It didn't matter that she was naked and wretched before the dwarves, but with the potent elvish wine in her stomach, everything seemed to fall away._

No one stopped her as she tipped back glass after glass, not eating anything.

_Well, except the little pickled onions and the water chestnuts, she liked them._

_And it wasn't quite true that no one stopped her, because Bofur tried to shift the pitchers away after darkness started to settle in, but she was prepared for that ploy! She glared at him, before clambering and stumbling over to Bifur on the other side of the table. She sat down next to the wild-looking dwarf (the movement hurting less and less as time passed) and drank, watching as he tried to challenge her with a look, but failing because of how sad he really seemed to be._

_She sank into the seat, drowning herself as he muttered something incoherent to himself._

_Then giggled unexpectedly._

_What a time to pick up the old habit! This wasn't so bad, really?_

She half-listened to conversations, sometimes staying quiet, sometimes swaying along to the tune.

_Bifur seemed to bark at anyone who got close. Until Fili tried it. She gave him a look of indifference she was very proud of, before returning to drinking. After a time unknown in the turning of the world, the stars started to fall into her eyes._

That was when she haltingly slipped away, still at least half-limping but feeling no pain, and let her feet carry her to bed.

* * *

"Are you okay? Fili?"

"I've never seen anyone look like that, brother, not even a bit."

"Fil…"

"She just looked…_desolate_, Kili."

"I'm going to find her."

"You're going to go wondering round an _elf city_ at one in the morning to find someone who doesn't want to be found?"

"I did it before!"

"Kili!"

They were half as drunk as her anyway, Fili knew. He was being irrational. Kili was being irrational. The difference was, given the circumstances, there was no way he was letting Kili go. He couldn't fight as sleep rolled over him in fitful waves, but he could at least keep his arms around his brother.

* * *

_Bifur was pacing. Nori was sat thoughtfully in the corner with Bombur and Dori. They could all hear the shouting match between the five dwarves down the corridor and Nori absently wondered how many bodies they would have to hide come the dawn._

* * *

"Oh, an' did you no' _SEE_ the way she looked to _HIM?_ Did you no' –"

"I SAW THE WAY SHE LOOKED WHEN SHE SPOTTED US AND LOOKED LIKE SHE WANTED TO THROW HERSELF OF THE THRICE-DAMNED CLIFF!"

"Bofur, calm yourself for Mahal's sake –"

"NO, GLOIN, NOT UNTIL I HAVE AN ANSWER AS TO WHY THIS –"

* * *

_Balin often wondered afterwards whether the toymaker had been secretly taking notes from their Senga as to how to shout down the skies_.

* * *

"– THIS SO-CALLED _HONOURABLE WARRIOR _IS DETERMINED NOT TO SEE THE BRILLIANT YOUNG WOMAN HE'S SLOWLY DRIVING TO MADNESS!"

"Don' think she was all tha' sane to begin with."

Balin pinched the bridge of his nose until it hurt.

"Oin, tha's _NO'_ helpin'..."

"SHE'S STRONGER THAN ANY OF US, AND YOU DON'T HAVE THE BALLS TO –"

"SHE'S AN IMPOSTER AN' A WHORE AN' SHE'S GO' NO PLACE WI' US!"

* * *

_In retrospect, it would've been quicker just to let Bofur kill him._

* * *

"Ori?"

"Oh! Oh, um…"

"What are you doing here?"

"I was looking for Miss Senga," Ori fidgeted anxiously as his king looked him up and down. "I watched her leaving and thought maybe I could follow, her leg being bad and everything…"

Thorin seemed to lock up inside, and Ori had the sudden urge to find somewhere else to be.

"Are you still angry at her?"

He didn't know where the words came from – they just sort of spilled out of him. Like things tended to do when he had something to drink, he thought miserably, but he'd only had a glass, and that after nearly begging Nori…

Thorin gave him a look so sharp he could've cut nails from it, but it was ashamed too (the sort of look his brother got sometimes when it was just them) and concerned, and upset, and –

"Get some sleep, Ori. We will need all our wits about us in this place, and this is a poor way to start."

"Yes, Thorin."

He scurried away – back to the argument he could hear two floors up. He was torn between holing up with his brothers (the proverbial calm eye of the storm) and steering clear altogether. He decided on the latter as the mist gathered again in his eyes, catching him somewhere in between Senga weeping as if she no longer noticed and Senga wrapping her arms tight around him, safer and more protected than he'd ever been in his life.

* * *

_Where was she? It wasn't uncommon that she didn't really care, but there seemed to be whispering, just beyond her range of hearing. At times, they seemed almost to guide her, then they conflicted and pushed her in different directions. They seemed to stop her running into the elves for some reason – how was that possible? Maybe it wasn't. Maybe she was magical._

_Because that made sense. _

Her knees hit a bed.

Whose bed?

_She didn't care._

_She fell into it without thought. In the deep dark everything blurred back and forth; nightmares and other terrible things that faded from her memory a moment later. She was running, then falling, then trying to curl in on herself. The memories chased her, but she could hide in the murk as they tried, falling deeper and deeper. She wrapped herself in shadow, and so shadow she was._

_She dreamt of falling; falling away from Kili's arms, screaming – that familiar screaming – lying in an alley in a pool of blood, more blood…but there was that crushing weight; that stench, that pain…she was screaming…she jumped off the cliff as those eyes watched…_

…_and the eyes were still there when she fell through the ground, tiny points of light in the dark. They were disappointed. They were looking at her like they had done that night when they sought hers across the fire. They were disappointed she'd jumped…_

…_she was staring at her wrists as the life drained from them in that grimy backstreet…_

…_she was screaming in that same sodding alley as they…as they…_

She howled. Primal, urgent, angry, devoid of sanity, but it came out all the same, dragging her from the hell of her mind and into the waking world. The sound echoed hard in her thumping head, scorching her dry throat. Hard on the heels of that was the nausea, rising like great beast of Beelzebub through her upper body and into her oesophagus.

Inexplicably, she found herself moving – rapidly. In moments (and in the nick of time) she was sprawled in front of a toilet and emptying her guts into the bowl, hands clutching helplessly at the seat. For a few seconds (or maybe it was minutes) that was all her world was: pain and sick. She couldn't even remember her own name, much less anything else. She just sicked herself out and then dry heaved, her blank mind stoically enduring the position until it stopped. When it did, she slumped slowly into a boneless heap, chin propped on the lip, breathing deeply as the spots danced and popped like bubbles behind her closed lids.

After a long, long time, she became aware of a hand on her shoulder. The thumb was rubbing slow circles into the scapula; strong and soothing. She didn't have the strength to open her eyes yet, but the hand itself seemed…familiar. _Where had she felt it before? Where had she been before? Who was she before the darkness?_

…_the eyes like a storm in the night, reflected in the waters of a pond so familiar she ached for a moment at the thought of its sanctuary so far away…_

Her lids were like stone, but they slid haltingly up anyway. She remembered.

"Fuck." Her whisper cracked so badly it was barely audible.

"I have…seen worse," came the deep response. "Not least of my own youth."

Senga groaned pitifully.

"I've got the tea, Thorin. Camomile and ginger with just a dash of mint, as requested."

"Did you bring the water?"

"Yes, that too."

She felt the hand shift to try and coax her round to face them, still keeping her carefully propped up against the toilet, legs splayed out. As she turned, muscles refusing to respond at all, much less co-operate, she became aware of the fact Thorin must have been holding her hair back as well. Shame coated her insides like paint – so much so that she tried to get up, but she was like a rag doll. She barely got past mumbling, groaning, and generally scowling before three dwarves were holding her gently in place, the king pushing a cup against her lips. She gulped determinably, forcing her hand to grasp the ceramic as she pulled the room into focus.

It took the entire cup and five valiant goes to succeed.

"That's the way to do it, go on!"

_Dori…_

"Where are the lads, if I might ask?"

_Bofur…_

"Wouldn't surprise me if they slept right through. Kili's dead to the world once he's had a drink or two."

_Thorin…_

"Do you want I should get Oin again?"

A sharp bark from somewhere close by announced Bifur's presence.

"Agreed, but she still looks terrible…"

"She probably just needs to sleep it off." Bilbo came into her fuzzy line of sight, hovering near Bofur and looking her over with a look full of compassion. "In the meantime," He puffed up his chest unexpectedly, making all the dwarves turn to him. "I think that she…deserves an apology." He tried to sound firm and austere, but ended up hopping foot to foot with nervousness.

In any other situation it would've been hilarious. As it was, the four dwarves each looked deeply uncomfortable, but none of them seemed to know quite how to proceed. Senga fixed Bilbo with a bitter glare and tried to rise again, but Thorin held her down. His determined grey eyes pinned her, and in a rare moment his guard slipped, beholding her with glassy regret and a slow inkling of understanding. A moment later it matched utility, bolting up emotion, but Senga couldn't help respond to the cool clarity of his words.

"If we have failed you, Miss Senga, I –"

"_You failed…_I'm useless to you an' you think _you_ failed?"

Thorin looked genuinely taken aback. Bifur shook his head, for once mute with shock; Dori looked upset with Bilbo and Bofur would've spoken allowed, face anguished, had not Thorin beaten him to it.

"I cannot deny your lack of experience, or your human blood, but as you proved today," he paused, apparently fuzzy enough himself to have to concentrate to maintain neutrality. "You are not entirely without your worth. And do not think I am ungrateful for your efforts." He considered her for a long while, brow furrowed enigmatically as several (unidentified) emotions warred behind the composure. Finally, he sighed, irritation entering his features as the aftermath of the day started to creep.

"In the future it would be better if you considered your position more carefully and practiced your skills in lieu of true combat. And didn't drown yourself at the first opportunity to do so. In the meantime," His voice dropped again, eyes flicking away. "You have not failed us. Senga."

She would've stayed staring at him, mouth hanging open – _third thoughts wondering about the way he'd said her name as if it were the key to the world's secrets –_ had not a landslide of tiredness hit her squarely between the eyes. Now the cramping and headache had died a little, her body's fight with consciousness had lost its key opponent and she felt like doing little more than sliding off back to the murk. _Except…_except the weight which seemed to have been crushing her since Dwalin's speech in the cave had lifted, replaced with something like…hope?

_You have not failed us._

"Oh, lass. _Oh, our Senga..._"

"You didn't really think that, did you?"

She felt rather than saw Thorin's glare being directed at Dori. The other dwarves and Bilbo seemed to retreat somewhat and the eyes looked her up and down. By the jumble of emotions, she realised she was at least still partially drunk and was suddenly caught between longing for bed and panic at the thought of the terrors chasing her. She didn't want to go into the dark again. It was a childish notion, but she felt so childish then; huddled and vulnerable on the floor.

"You should all get some rest," he said, suddenly sounding as tired as she felt. "'tis nearly daybreak and we will have precious few wits between us come the morrow as it is."

"Aye," Bofur acceded without resistance, recognising dismissal. "Don't suppose you've got any more of that tea, do you Dori?"

Senga opened her eyes and focussed long enough to see Dori nod, the five of them filing out with Bilbo casting her one last look of concern. When they were gone, Thorin turned back to her with a gentle air she'd thought was only reserved for his nephews.

"Can you stand?"

Senga shrugged, trying. Thorin sighed heavily before finally pulling her into his arms and carrying her to the bed. That was when she frowned.

"Why here…"

"I had assumed you had no objections when you chose this bed to fall into."

"Whose is it?"

"Mine."

Senga's eyes widened. She tried to get up, but had about as much success as before. Thorin's face was unreadable without the way it blurred, but he sighed again and settled her beneath the covers with a grimace. It disappeared, however, when he looked upon his finished work, her slipping in and out of awareness.

"Get some sleep, Senga."

"Don' go."

Her words came in a mumbled trickle that had Thorin, surprisingly, clasping her outstretched hand, if only for a moment.

"This _is _my room." He pointed out wryly, seemingly trying to summon irritation but failing for some reason. Even in the fug of exhaustion and alcohol, it made no sense. She watched blearily as he pulled a spare blanket from somewhere and flopped heavily onto the floor.

_You have not failed us._

A smile, fragile as the slight filtering of light permeating the room, spread over her numb lips as she lay on the bed, staring at the man below. A curtain of dark hair obscured his face, and her last thought (before losing the world altogether) was how much of a pity that was.

* * *

_**A.N: So the title is three fold: firstly it refers back to the previous one of the "brewing storms" (since the "storms" beak in this chapter), progressing the story by getting to the dinner with Elrond, and doing a loops-back-round-to-the-title thing with Dori's tea at the end. Just cos.**_

_**I had so much fun describing things in this chapter: its poetry to let stuff come alive from your imagination and I loved the opportunity to flesh out an area in luxuriant detail. Anyway, the point of that was to inspire a sense of scale to the writing and to add colour to it. Colour's important, I feel. Also, introducing Elrohir and screwing with the language barrier was a great exercise in euphemism and irony. Expect more appearances as we go on...**_

_**And finally: angst - positive reversal, and multiple perspectives. The whole principle is about guiding an emotional response: getting the audience to actually feel and bleed for the characters and then feeling a climactic moment of emotional closure (while still having everything believable). As it sounds like, it is a NIGHTMARE to pace, but I think I've steered it right, at least for where I wanted the mood to be at this point in the story.**_

_**Thoughts? Btw, a huge thank you to everyone whose reviewed (and I've taken the comment about he conversations to heart: the key is in who is mentioned after the line, the way the line is spoken including accentation, and the sequence of who was speaking before). It's on 93. NINETY-BLOODY-THREE! Never thought I'd see the day, truly! HAH!**_


	13. Cracks in Clear Glass

_Okay, first off, i'd like to respond to the first review I got for the last chapter: I know it was depressing and angsty; I know it was excessive. That was the point! The idea was to convey someone in a bad place, physically and emotionally and in a state or relapse. As is emphasised by this chapter. Also, having special plot stuff for Senga is there firstly for irony's sake (for all the Mary Sues there are) and secondly because it's fun to write! In addition to that, I explain it! Nothing is without purpose. Hence, it's not just 'everything magically happens around Senga'. The last nail in the coffin is her being perfect: in the last chapter she was melodramatic, self-absorbed, depressed, insecure, arrogant, desperate for sympathetic understanding and all in all a post-traumatic late teenager. HOW IS THIS PERFECT?_

_Oh, and thank you to everyone else who reviewed and viewed and was patient with me, you guys are absolutely and unequivocally awesome!_

_**Chapter Twelve**_

**Cracks in Clear Glass**

It was still night-time when Senga next woke.

She felt…good? Not brilliant; bit stiff, maybe, and her leg ached fiercely. Also her throat was dry and she needed to go to the bathroom, but she didn't feel all _that_ horrible. In fact she felt a right sight better than when she'd started.

She was warm. Her thoughts were at peace for some reason. She didn't feel like she was moving through treacle, or having her head put through a meat grinder. And what with last night, she felt she _really_ deserved the latter.

_Still night-time?_

A soft knock came at the door.

"Senga…are you awake?"

"Am no'." She responded dryly, though there was no real bite to it. She felt like a forest after rain when it had the watery sunshine bursting through it (if that was a feeling one could legitimately have). Kili seemed to pause before continuing.

"It's just…we were going to have dinner and we thought you might want to join us. Bombur's frying potatoes!" He added hopefully.

"Okay," she struggled to a sitting position, wincing at her smarting leg. "Err, Kili?" She called after a while. "You migh' 'ave to 'elp me…"

The archer was bounding into the room before she'd finished the sentence. He grinned manically when he caught sight of her tangled in the bedclothes before flopping, boots and all, onto the bed.

"Back to the land of the living, I see."

"Ho' long was I ou'?"

"Ooh, most of a day," he replied casually. "'bout twenty hours all up? We 'ad bets on as to when you'd show up."

"Who won?"

"Me."

"You be' I'd be in bed all day?"

His cheeky grin was enough to bring the pillow that'd been beneath her left hand upside his jaw. Kili screwed up his face indignantly as Senga laughed, processing the revelation that she'd slept right through. It explained how clear everything suddenly was and how paradoxically _good _she felt. The expression 'everything looks different in the daylight' had never seemed more appropriate in the soft twilight gathering in the corners. If she was being perfectly honest, looking back on how she'd felt the previous evening – how she'd _reasoned _– she felt a bit…foolish. A bit. Just a _little_ bit…

Something must have shown on her face, because Kili was suddenly putting an arm around her shoulders, smiling crookedly.

"You feeling alright?"

"Did I really gabble in Elvish an' then try to drown myself because I though'…" she cut herself off before it all came pouring out. Embarrassment burst in her stomach like a flare gun. All that guilt and self-loathing…not that it had come from nowhere, but to have it _take_ _over_ _like that_…

It was not only stupid, but in the hindsight of waking-up-afterwards it felt so _teenage angst_…and selfish. _Bugger it!_

"Dwalin was way, _way _out of line." Kili said, voice low and dangerous. "The things he said –"

"Yeah, I kno', an' I thumped him for his troubles." Senga said exasperatedly. "Nex' time I see him he's getting' worse for bein' the world's biggest arse an' you can coun' on it, bu'…Kili…I shouldn' have cared so much wha' he thinks in the firs' place!"

Kili looked as if he wanted to say something to the contrary, but Senga didn't pay too close attention as she flopped back onto the pillows.

"I feel a righ' pra' for bein' so _pathetic_."

"You weren't pathetic." He pulled her gently up. "You were – everyone has their guard pulled down at some point." There seemed to be a lot hanging in the air. She felt guilt join embarrassment at how badly she'd compromised herself. But at that moment everything left unsaid was just words. _Just words._

"Fuck," Senga buried her face in his shoulder. She'd really fucked up.

"'_ey_."

She raised her head high enough to press it into the gap beneath his jaw.

"You think I'd be used to this." She said suddenly. Kili frowned.

"Used to what?"

"The…_apologisin'_." Finally she looked up. "No'..._exactly_…the _first _time I've…well I suppose I can call it 'relapse'. Surprised people pu' up wi' me the way they do sometimes."

Kili sighed heavily.

"I can't say I understand properly," he said, frowning. "But you're more…_more _than you think. You've got people who care about you. That counts, you know."

She smiled. A soft smile, so unused. _More unsaid. _And yet this she didn't need to say out loud.

"Righ'," she piped up suddenly. "Fuck this. Help me up."

She shoved her legs unceremoniously over the side of the bed, finding she could ignore the pain so much more easily than when they arrived. _Too easily, actually. _The archer hopped up to catch her as she tentatively tested the leg.

"Fill me in then." She asked, cool and business-like (albeit with gritted teeth). "Day ou' o' i': wha' happened?"

"Well," Kili's eyes defocussed as he concentrated. "Everyone was a bit hung-over, so as you can imagine, we didn't get much done particularly. Um…Gandalf spent time talking with Elrond…went in to see you about midday – he says you're doing fine, by the way. I think even old Oin's impressed! Probably all this magic in the air, but I'm not complaining if it's helping put you to rights. Gave you more stuff for the pain while he was at it."

He kept talking, skating over some details and exalting others as if trying to skip the bits he'd rather she not dwell on. Senga's eyes were alternating between the subtle images imbued into the walls and his somehow cautious face when she realised the looming shape of something he definitely _wasn't_ telling her. She stopped.

"Kili –" suddenly it clicked. A quick scan of the room confirmed it was the one she'd been assigned, but even the gaps in her sloshedmemory had failed to omit the blurred bits at the end. _Cramp. Pain. Sick. Headache. Sleep. Sick. Toilet. Talking. Eyes…the curtain of hair obscuring his face…why had it done that..._Why had he _reassured_ her? What was her worth to him that he'd willingly let her ride it out in his own –

"Kili how did I ge' here?"

"Get where?"

"_My_ _room._" She said, slowly and deliberately. Kili's shoulders slumped in defeat.

"We carried you." He said simply. "Well, actually…Thorin carried you – but me and Fili helped! Apparently he didn't consider what it might look like having you fall asleep in his bed when he was still a bit, um, plastered so he sort of…_panicked_…when he woke up. Then started shouting about…um, stuff…and he found us and enlisted our help getting you back here!"

The end of his speech was punctuated with a bright grin. Senga raised an eyebrow.

"He said you were throwing up when he found you," Kili added helpfully.

"Yeah, I remember tha' bi'!"

"_And _all 'e did was put you to bed." He frowned for a moment. "I mean it's not so much what the pointy-ears would think, but…"

"Oh, for the love of _God_," Senga groaned in frustration. "Why does everythin' have to be abou' my _sex life?_"

"That's just what I said!"

In the ringing silence both of them burst out laughing. Kili held her up as they fell about, finally subsiding into breathless chuckles. After a while they started up again, finally making it out of the room.

"Just thought it'd be for the best," Kili said apologetically. "Think Thorin was _rather_ hoping you _wouldn't _remember."

"Fa' chance."

"Yeah," the archer sighed. "Oh – and _no one_ tells Dwalin!"

"Wha'?"

"Look, I talked to Nori, and he says they had a bit of a shouting match then stopped. Balin's calling it a…_oh, what was it_…yeah: a 'Period of Non-Aggressive Diplomatic Recess'!"

"They go' tired an' wen' to bed?"

"Something like that. Point is, well…best not to make things worse than they already are."

Senga winced.

"_Fine._" She said eventually, voice as withering as she could make it. "I'm tryin' to be wha' you need, you kno'. I said to Dwalin tha' I don' wan' to take from you, an' tha' was true. I wan' to be _better_.

"Missed the mark a bi' yesterday." She added quietly. "I wan' to…" She ended with a sigh.

"Maybe it'd be better if you stopped trying." He suggested softly.

Senga rolled her eyes, shaking her head, but felt the smile spread across her face.

"'ey, there it is!"

_How was it that Kili of all people could always make her feel better?_ Warmth like steam clouds seemed to fill her up, and she wondered a bit at that. Not _safe_, exactly, but…_allowed _to indulge in _safe_, maybe? He made things seem bearable – even normal; laughable. It was like nothing she was used to. Maybe John and Rick – her cousins plodding over the mountainsides – came close, and her Great Uncle (oh, she _missed _him) but with the latter it was to be expected and with the former it was marginal. No, the last time she felt like this around another person was with Elliot. They'd sit and smoke and talk and things wouldn't seem so terrible…

She shook her head slightly. That lead her into darker places and that was the last thing she wanted. She didn't want to face what she'd done either, but, well: one thing at a time now she was sober. Food.

They started off again, looking for all the world like a couple of drunks trying to do a three-legged race. It was hard to think about anything at all in this situation and they soon fell to giggling shamelessly through the austere halls. When Fili joined them, he gave them each a flat look before locking eyes with his brother.

"_No_ – no don' you dare!" Senga yelped as Kili obligingly stepped aside and her world inverted, slung over Fili's shoulder.

"See? This is much more efficient!"

"Pu' me _down!_"

Kili just laughed as she flailed, Fili spinning them round with a flourish.

"Shall we, brother?"

"You utter bastard!"

"I personally see no objections."

"Fuck!"

"It'll get you to dinner quicker!"

Senga stilled, mulling it over.

"Well, in tha' case giddy up!" She slapped his back to emphasise her point. "Hi-yo Thunder!"

"Oi!"

"You asked for it!"

Fili groaned at the same time as Kili doubled over with mirth. It was at that precise, golden moment when the three of them seemed perfectly in tandem that Senga felt something watching her. _Smiling._

Her brow drew tight together.

Perhaps the boys would've noticed, but whether they might have done was rendered extraneous by the voice that filtered lightly down the corridor.

"Is there a problem here?"

It took approximately three-and-a-half seconds for Senga to have one-and-a-half feet on the ground with Fili and Kili in a defensive stance in front of her, staring down the approaching elf.

"No." She said loudly. The brothers didn't move, but the elf himself raised an eyebrow.

"_You are Senga?_"

"Aye," She was painfully aware of how the brothers suddenly glanced at her, uneasy and uncomfortable. "Bu' I don' kno' _you_."

"Glorfindel, if it please you."

_Ah. That would explain the blonde hair._

"What's _Glorfindel_?" Kili asked sharply. Fili sighed heavily and Senga had to physically resist the urge to bring her palm smacking into her brow.

"It's his _name_." She explained, speaking in lieu of his sudden regression to the intelligence of a four-year-old. Kili deflated.

"Oh."

"As a matter of fact, I was requested to find you tonight to see if you were recovered." Glorfindel said smoothly, undeterred. "I am informed you were a little out of sorts last eve – not counting your injury, of course."

"Seems I slep' through it." Senga answered dryly. "An' you can tell Elrohir I'm fine."

"Indeed," Glorfindel raised his sculpted eyebrows.

_We need fucking subtitles, _Senga thought angrily as the conversation continued.

"In that case he has arranged that you might meet him tomorrow, if you are willing, for a little light combat training in the sparing yard."

"Who the hell told him I needed comba' trainin'?" She yelped indignantly.

"_Mithrandir_ mentioned it to him, if I recall. He also indicated you were in need of a new sword and a replacement bow for the one that was lost in the confusion with the warg. In any case, he has offered to meet you there at the next noonday."

Senga indulged a moment to bristle at the wizard's bloody minded meddling, but both were things she _desperately_ needed, it was true. Face feeling like a brick wall, she nodded.

"Aye. I'll meet him. _My regards._"

With that she gave a short dip of her head, before turning and hobbling in the direction they'd been going. She didn't dare look back to see Glorfindel's expression at being effectively dismissed, but worry warred with sudden knife-sharp satisfaction. _Well, if she had to start the whole quest area again, she might as well fucking do it right!_

The feeling even drowned out the reprimand of the voice that pointed out she'd just picked up the sodding shovel again. _Fuck it._ Fili and Kili didn't move until he was out of sight round a corner – then they were at her side, bombarding her with questions.

"You're _actually _meeting with him? Who is he?"

"Who was _that?_"

"Senga, _we_ could've given you combat training!"

With a scowl, she pulled up short.

"I don' doub' it, Fili, bu' I'm bein' offered it by a guy whose most of _a_ _thousan' years old_ an' I'm no' exactly goin' to pass tha' up. _Tha' _an' I ge' the feelin' I'm in for a _real elvish sword_." She added, meeting the blonde's gaze unwaveringly. Even Fili had to concede to that, and dropped his eyes.

"Still don't like it."

"Look, _who was that?_" The both turned to Kili, anxiety written all across his face. Senga sighed.

"_Tha'_…was Glorfindel. Residen' of Imladris after his services to Gondolin a couple o' millennia ago. Also slew a balrog at some poin', can' remember why. As for Elrohir…he's Elrond's son."

"How do you know that?"

"I jus' do." She said frustratedly. "I could tell you a lo' abou' them, actually, bu' mos' o' it's historical an' some of it's the stuff Gandalf an' I talk abou', alrigh'? It's no' all tha' interestin' an' the bottom line is they're Elf Lords. Elrohir was the one from las' nigh'."

"The one who kissed you?" Kili bristled.

"I did threaten to break his hand, you kno'."

Kili's jaw flopped open, but Fili just broke into a laugh.

"Oh, is _that _what you said. Uncle thought you were flirting."

"I don' _flirt_."

"No, you don't, do you?"

"He didn' seem bothered about it las' nigh'." Senga said harshly, an odd, deflating feeling invading her stomach. _The fuck did that get there? _"Thorin, I mean."

"Oh, he _was._" Fili assured her, raising his eyebrows and wincing a little. "Afterwards though…"

"…after you'd, well…"

"Started drinkin' myself to death? Yeah, go on."

Kili looked as if his throat had locked up and looked away.

"_Afterwards_ we were all too drunk and worried about you to care." Fili shrugged uncomfortably. "And, well, you _were_ hurt."

"And you did take Dwalin's words to heart." Kili stared resolutely at his feet. "We didn't know what to make of it all."

Senga grimaced.

"Crap." She muttered. Fili fixed his gaze on the ceiling as if it was somehow to blame before throwing an arm consolingly round her shoulders.

"So, how come you know Elvish?"

Despite the situation, she shrugged.

"Taugh' it to meself. Didn' do well in anythin' at all in school, bu' I enjoyed tha' for some reason. Seemed righ' a' the time."

* * *

"_Chips?"_

"_They don't do chips in the shire, Mr Baggins?" Bofur sounded horrified._

"_No, no, I'm familiar with them, I'm just…surprised…" Bilbo made an abortive gesture to the dainty décor and then to the furniture they were burning out on the porch._

"_Ah, they won't mind us. Tend to leave them alone, us dwarves do, and we take kindly to them doing the same back."_

_The hobbit still looked uncomfortable._

"_You can always –" he looked suddenly up at Bofur, almost admiringly. "You're always finding ways to keep your spirits up."_

_Bofur smiled, almost ruefully, but the warmth was deep in it still._

"_Just habit, Bilbo."_

* * *

It was only when you really looked, but there were quite literally a thousand nooks to the room. _Secret places._ It was a room built to be _home_ in a world of austerity. In fact, it was only when she became so utterly bored with trying to sleep (given she'd slept twenty hours, come _on!_) that she found the third door she'd missed, disguised within the twisting tree.

_Thorin had stared at her throughout the terse meal, yet never once met her eyes. In fact none of the dwarves had so much as touched the line that had so clearly been drawn. She wanted to thank him; apologise for being exactly what she'd been trying not to be and acknowledge that he had taken care of her. _Then_ they could go back to ignoring each other. Nothing complicated._

_Why _had_ he taken care of her like that?_

Nothing fucking complicated.

_He'd picked her up off the floor without comment when she'd have expected contempt._

_Why?_

_After she'd practically flaunted Sindarin and flounced around with an elf prince to prove a point._

_Why? Fucking _why? _It shouldn't have been complicated and shouldn't have made her so…so on edge_

Deciding that this new door could hardly be more surprising than anything she'd already seen, she let curiosity get the better of her and limped under the lintel.

Her first thought was that she'd walked into a private observatory. Then she realised that was ridiculous. The ceiling was domed and made entirely of clear glass so that the stars could be seen above. On the floor were images of the phases of the moon, spiralling around a broad central column that reached to a few feet below the ceiling, but Senga could only just make it out in the darkness. The walls were shrouded in shadow.

Before entering that room, tucked away from everywhere, Senga had never realised quite how bright or how _many _the stars really were. None of the constellations were familiar, but it didn't matter. There were _billions_ of them – billions and billions, burning bright from where she stood against the door looking up, each a pinprick of light like diamonds scattered on velvet.

Something seemed to respond deep within her breast, as if stirring for the first time. She'd never seen anything so beautiful in all her life.

Something glimmered on the opposite wall: one of the mysterious lamp brackets. She still hadn't worked out what turned them on (or what powered them in the first place) but when she touched them they either dimmed or extinguished or flared to life depending on what she needed at the time. It was disconcerting, but she was hardly in a position to complain. Circumventing the column, she crossed the floor and pressed her fingers to the bracket, brimming with anticipation.

_Oh._

Bookcases. The_ walls_ were _bookcases_. Dark wood, swirled with notches, carved with images, towering above her head. The column in the middle was a bookcase. And right beneath the lamp was a silver-wooded writing desk, complete with drawers, quills, ink, thick, waxy paper and the weird glass things you occasionally found in poncey offices. Preserved in those were the petrified forms of flowers; entirely too bloody _girly_ for Senga's taste until she spotted one with an iridescently shimmering dragonfly inside, set pride of place at the back, ready to be used.

But she was missing the point: _books. The books…_

"Well bugger me."

Her eyes slid down the endless shelves, drinking in the sight. Hundreds of spines; thousands of letters. Some were leather, others cloth, many board; a myriad of colours and sizes, moulded by the shadows and lamplight. Some were pristine, austere in their preservation, whilst others were worn and quite obviously well-loved. Surprisingly, not all were in Sindarin – in fact there seemed to be entire sections devoted to subjects in an array of languages. _Science, history, geography, mythology_…her eyes caught on a book about the human legends of unicorns and it took her a whole moment to realise she was looking at a book of Ardran fairy tales.

Not, she suspected, the versions with all the sex and violence, but with these old books you never knew. In the same general area was a volume entitled _Tales of Gwidyon the Dragon Hunter._

Ah.

_Oh god…_

She may have been an ex-junkie. An ex-drunk. She may have been one of the least academically inclined people she knew (considering her opinion of most uppity academes was _"a bunch o' fuckin' pretentious bastards._") She may even have been legitimately accused of drinking again by a highly disgruntled Oin – one of the few exchanges of the entire meal –but…but a good story…

…a good story with magic and mystery and heroes and monsters…

That was _something_ to her.

She'd often wondered whether it was escapism of some sort, for she certainly imagined herself the heroine of a grand adventure (her own real one notwithstanding). But it had never mattered all that much. Real life was always more insane than any dysfunction she could've thought up on her own in the dark. And getting lost between the pages meant she wouldn't have to think about anything in the first place, which was kind of the point.

With steady hands, she opened the book.

* * *

_Gwidyon stood erect against the sky, torch burning defiantly as it was held aloft. The sweat glittered not on the brow of this great warrior, nor did the weariness in his limbs show clear as he bore his retribution to its completion. All about him was aflame; a brand upon the earth to mark his anger. Yet far distant was his joy; the victory ash upon his tongue and leaden in his heart. Without she who was once his, t'was nothing. T'was merely a shade; an absence of light, ne'er to return in the bitter night –_

* * *

– oh so dramatic for him burning down a dragon's nest, honestly –

* * *

_and though his labours great and small were threefold compared to the softness of her toil, she had yet suffered his absence as if a deathly poison had invaded her body. It was as if its own knife, making such a cleave to her heart at the loss of her dearest –_

* * *

– laying it on a bit thick, wasn't she? –

* * *

_She had dressed her heart in black, rejecting all worldly meaning for it did not exist for her; merely mocking her 'till the world turned enough that she could no longer see her once-happiness on the far-distant horizon. She had suffered the truest strike, an injury that none could heal, and there were those could say that when she had looked her last upon her love, all her light had departed entirely –_

* * *

– and all at once she felt an overwhelming surge of feeling _completely_ stupid. And reckless and foolish and inconsiderate, but being stupid was the more important bit at the moment. _FUCK! One step forward: fall on face and slide back down hill. AARRRG!_

Blame it on the softening sky (betraying how long she'd been sat at the desk) or on the sheer emotional turmoil of the last couple of days, but her head hit the silvery wood rather hard.

_Bugger._

_Laughter…like ripples in a still pond, fair as white lilies, filtering through her tired mind…_

Okay.

That's it.

Suddenly _wide _awake (and sporting a truly monumental scowl) Senga stood, stuck her chin out, and said to no-one in particular. "Enjoying yourself?"

The room…shimmered.

And then she was standing on a large circular dais, surrounded on all sides by ornately sculpted stone walls. Fine curtains of ivy fluttered in a slight breeze and there was no discernible door. In fact, if it wasn't for the moonlight spilling gently onto the stone floor, casting everything in a silver-white glow, there wouldn't have been any light either.

"Hello?" Because, honestly, what else did you say in that situation? It struck her suddenly that she couldn't actually _feel _the wind. "_Hello?_"

"_Good morning Senga, daughter of Adila._"

A hundred questions crowded into her head. Starting with the answer to Life, The Universe and Everything and ending, promptly, with: _why contact an ex-druggie with no use or purpose apparent to anyone? Why act as if she's the answer to an all-important bloody prophecy?_

"_That is two questions._"

"Why can' I see you?"

"_There is no need to shout._"

"The fuck there isn'!"

"_Do you wish me to answer your first or seconded query?_"

Senga felt her face flush at the continued serene calm the voice seemed to exude. More than that, she felt a new surge of anger.

"_You feel you are being manipulated._"

"Oh, really?"

"_You feel also that there is little reason for the patience you have been afforded._"

"There isn'!"

Silence followed in the wake of her shout as Senga shut her mouth. She felt drained. After a moment, the presence seemed to consider and, when she spoke again, it was with a level of patience Senga hadn't thought possible.

"_To answer your first question, it is because you have particular potential: the manifestation of a strength you have yet to see. In answer to your second, it is because you are._"

"Grea'."

"_You do not believe me?_"

"No."

Senga could've sworn she felt something like a sigh reverberate in her head…accompanied by the smallest of wry smiles.

"_Why was I given your granddaughter's rooms?_" Senga asked softly.

"_I suggested it._" There was a pause. "_Perhaps I should not reveal more. It would do well for you to work it out for yourself._"

"_Are you going to tell me anything else?_"

"No…I don't think so." The voice came in English now. "You require time, Senga. You are not ready."

"Ready for wha'?"

But the room was already fading, replaced by the sounds and smells and dawn light of the library. Suddenly all she wanted to do was fall heavily into bed – _Arwen's old bed_, she corrected herself with a feeling of utter surreality. With the feeling that she was being dragged forward by a tow rope, she reached to extinguish the lamp, marked her page, and limped back to the bed.

Seriously, why was SHE a fucking oracle-bound quest item person?

_Swallow it down._

_At least, _she thought as she burrowed into the blankets, _I probably won't end up killing my dad and marrying my mum. Sod Evelyn and her copy of _Oedipus the King!

_Anyway, already did the first half._

* * *

"Senga!"

"_Mff._"

"Oi, Senga?"

"_Fuffoff._"

"Thought you were going to meet with whatshisname at noon?"

Senga nearly flipped over, sending pain shooting weakly through her thigh as she hastened to scrabble at the bedside table (for an alarm clock that didn't exist). _Must have had something to do with sleeping in a real bed. _She swore.

"There's no need for that!"

"Wha' time is it?"

"'bout twelve-ish?"

"Bugger it!"

Kili had to catch he bodily as she came half stumbling, half falling out the door in the red shirt pulled over her violently tangled hair.

"Do you kno' where my pants are?"

"Um –"

"No' Kili!"

"'ey – if they're not up here yet I don't know!"

"Bolocks!"

"You could, um, borrow mine I suppose..."

He'd barely finished the sentence before Senga was yanking him inside and all but tearing the leather off him. If she'd stopped to think at all during this exchange (ignoring the way Kili's ears suddenly went the colour of raw beetroot) she might have noticed the implications, but as it was the thought didn't even cross her mind.

"I feel like I've go' socks shoved down my crotch."

Kili made a noise somewhere between a choke and a snort as Senga belted up and strapped on her short sword. The injury was still painful, but manageable in that she was more or less independent as she hobbled urgently round.

"Where's the sparin' yard?"

"Big round courtyard out towards the river, beneath all them balconies. You can't miss it."

"You're no' coming?"

"You just nicked me bloody pants, you!"

"Oh." She stopped, frowning for a split second. "Fair enough."

"Just get goin'!"

Kili flapped helplessly after her as she raced (in as much as a lame person can) down towards the yard.

* * *

"_This isn't what it looks like!"_

"_You're wrapped in a sheet after slinking back to our room and yelling for me so that I can lend you my spare leggings…"_

"_Senga stole my trousers!"_

_Fili stared._

"_You realise you're not making this sound _any_ better."_

* * *

"Ah, it is good to see you about once more Senga. I was becoming concerned."

Senga shot Elrohir a glare as she leaned heavily into a pillar, leg throbbing and out of breath.

"Afternoon to you, lass!"

"'fternoon Bofur." Which proved she was at least making some progress, considering it took all she had not to respond with a customary _"piss off."_ The dwarf smiled cheerfully, and she glanced quickly about to see who else had turned up. Apparently the news had spread rapidly (immediately cementing the necessity of finding and killing both brothers as soon as possible). She spotted Balin, Bifur, Oin, Gloin and Dori already in addition to Bofur, all gathered on the surrounding benches. Some were tucking into lunch, others (Gloin and Bifur, notably) sharpening their weapons, all keeping a surreptitious eye on the elf standing casually in the centre of the courtyard.

"_How fares your sleep?_"

It was an insouciant enough question, but Senga knew better than to take the elf at face value. That and it only then occurred to her that her nightmares had been conspicuously absent given the stress of the last few days. _Had the Lady had a hand in that?_

"_Well. It concerns you?_"

"_It bodes well for one to heal, and you are healing well. This pleases me._"

"_That's kind of you._"

"Have you had lunch yet lass?"

Senga sighed heavily.

"No, bu' I've made 'im wai' long enough by this poin'." She answered wearily.

"You shouldn't skip meals if you expect to recover fully!" Piped up an indignant Bilbo, appearing among the group with a plate piled high with sausages.

"I'm no' skippin' meals!"

"And yet you chose to appear for battle practice without having eaten."

Senga felt the blood rush to her face. The baritone was accompanied moments later by the appearance of Thorin and Dwalin, both in their undershirts and looking as if they'd only recently been sparring. The dwarf king was avoiding her eyes while simultaneously managing his signature contempt – as if nothing had happened. _That _hurt far more than it should've done. Actually she shouldn't have been surprised, what _had_ she been thinking? Her stomach was bouncing round and she hadn't a clue why, only that it now _hurt _and so she shoved it down with all her might.

The only thing that was _really_ surprising was Dwalin in that he seemed to be trying to act as if there was a sheet of glass between them: not exactly ignoring her, but not actively threatening either. Which was an improvement by some standards. She chose to level a glare through the pane.

"It would have been foolish to ask you to perform strenuous movement," Elrohir said lightly, though his rang very clearly over the dwarves. "What I intended to do today was have you visit the forge…and perhaps display your bow work." He added, eying her wryly. Balin all but glared.

"Where is this forge?"

"In a grove nearby."

"Hah," Dwalin ground out, sounding as if his tongue had been replaced with stomach acid. "I'd like to see wha' elves think counts as a forge!"

* * *

As it turned out, it was a small open-air courtyard with an anvil, work benches and various paraphernalia. Senga was expecting it to be a bit different (and more luxuriously equipped) but she was still astonished at the sheer array of alien tools scattered around the area. There were tongs shaped like mutated butterflies; hammers that seemed to have had their balances moulded off-centre and a dozen things whose purpose Senga could only guess at. The great majority of the ones on the left seemed to be for the…_fiddly _jobs. The finish work. The artistry.

The things on the right however…

Her fingers _twitched _to try some of the tools before them. The sheer _precision _they would yield…the finest blade; folded, and yet able to be _sculpted_ to the perfect need or desire or deadliness – it just depended on the shape the tool was designed to help produce. And there were so many tools…

Off to the right was also what seemed to be a prettied up garden shed-cum-warehouse. On the outside wall, however, was a section of iron shelving. Upon squinting, she identified the boxes and jars as storing various types of powders.

Some of them glowing.

"_Impressed?_" The silky voice of Elrohir came from where he was sheepherding the grumbling dwarves (who'd insisted on coming along, of course) away from the furnace. Thorin looked as if he'd swallowed hot coals and was trying very hard not to let them explode out his ears. Senga shrugged imperiously and went to inspect one of the jars.

"_I would not advise you touch that – it would be quite a burn to suffer as a result._"

"_Water-active?_"

"_Heat in fact. As you may notice, it is kept cool._"

"_Interesting._"

The elf smirked for a fleeting second before it vanished in favour of facing the others.

"Through here please."

He led them to a second shed concealed in the trees before muttering what seemed to be a passphrase and ushering them inside.

Senga thought she'd died and been inexplicably sent back to an art gallery. Not being melodramatic, but the change was _abrupt. _And…well, for the unqualified beauty of the collection surrounding them, an art gallery would've been hard pressed. It was _exquisite_. Rack upon rack of just about every variation in weaponry that had ever crossed the mind of an avid fantasy fan (although thin blades and knives seemed excessively represented, it had to be said) interspersed with scale-plate and light armours that looked almost as if they'd been spun from glass, not metal. What also struck her was the _size _of the repository. It didn't look nearly as big from the outside, but in reality there was elaborate scaffolding necessary to scale the walls making them at least four stories high.

Even the dwarves gaped.

"_Much of what is done of late is but for the pleasure of our smiths, but even at their leisure they can be somewhat prolific._" The elf smiled serenely. Senga cocked an eyebrow.

"_And fond of experimenting._"

"_Aha…yes, they do seem to, eh, dabble in the less explored areas of the trade._"

"You were goin' to give me a bow? An' a sword?"

"The sword we can leave for another time as I do not know yet what might suit you best. I have, however, taken the liberty of selecting some appropriate candidates for a bow."

He led the party to the very back of the building. _Only elves, _Senga thought, _could have an entire section of a blacksmiths' storeroom dedicated to bows._ Every shape. Every size. Every wood type. Some were even made of metal (though these were few and tucked away as if they represented a sojourn into controversy). Attached to the wall was a large alcove not unlike an indoor cricket cage, complete with arrows and targets.

"I had hoped to find more your size," Elrohir commented forlornly. "But I think it would be a difficult task for you to transport a longbow even if you could use one, so I have ruled it out. Thus, I have located these."

He indicated a long, conspicuous trestle table on which lay no less than five short bows.

"Chose whichsoever pleases you the most. Consider your final preference a gift of my house."

He bowed lowly.

"_Why?_" Senga couldn't keep the note of suspicion from her voice. It was too perfect.

"_Because it is necessary for you to be properly set._"

"Why?"

She knew she was being ungrateful; demanding. But _why? Why why why? _Why was all this being set up just for _her? _What was she missing here?

"Would you rather you not be?" The elf's eyes glinted mischievously. _Oh _and it was just making everything _so much worse_, not helped by the fact that Senga _knew_ she'd started it. The fog was only just clearing from round her brain and she'd barely started on cataloguing the damage she'd done – _was still doing. _A hurricane might have left less of an impact.

_Well, you knew everything blew up in your face: this is just the blast radius. Proud of yourself?_

_SHUT UP!_

"Well!" She could see the spider cracks forming between her and Dwalin as the dwarf huffed impatiently, eyes flicking disgustedly between her and Elrohir. Unbidden, her eyes slid to Thorin – _why did she want to know what he thought? – _but he was suddenly fixated with glaring at the opposite wall. _The fuck was wrong with her anyway?_

She stomped to the table and ran her hands over the articles (if for no other reason than to distract herself from the sudden reaffirmation of confused fury). She wished Kili was there. For his opinion. Not specifically because he'd have calmed the urge to seriously hurt someone.

The first bow was too light. It was probably structurally stronger than any she'd ever held, but it didn't feel _right._ She _needed _that weight when she gripped it, and so it was quickly dismissed. The second was more promising: she even went so far as to test the draw and loose an arrow at the straw-and-cloth target. It was…interesting, to say the least. It was tight. Very tight. The whole structure was designed around being able to take a phenomenal amount of force to a small area and then translating it in the release. Which meant it packed a _punch_ at close range. And could be drawn to force quickly. _But _the sacrifice was, ultimately, its effective range since the whole idea was it went very fast over a short distance. It was a specialised close-combat weapon and Senga reluctantly acknowledged its disadvantage in a quest such as theirs.

_Still 'theirs'?_

The third was weird. Finicky. Probably some clever way of extenuating the draw-backs of a short bow compared to a long, but quite honestly Senga agreed with the school of thought that proclaimed 'Simple Is Best'. The fourth though…it was a bow. It was bow-shaped. It was made of dark wood. It was short, but not as small as some of the designs proved short bows could be. It had a strong draw-back and seemed, as soon as Senga tested it, very accurate. Would probably suffer a bit in close range, but then again using bows in melee was reserved for movie stunts with Orlando Bloom. This was a hunter's weapon. Middle distance ranged attack.

The fifth she touched…but she already knew it wouldn't be. The fourth seemed to fit in her hand, balanced in her palm both when she held it down and when she held it ready.

She loosed a last couple of arrows to prove her point.

"_You know…with that one particularly…you have not missed once today. Considering your leg._"

Senga frowned.

"_I wasn't trying._"

"_Curious._"

She glared uncomprehendingly, but the elf seemed unwilling to elaborate further. With a secretive smile, he gave a small bow and set about escorting them outside.

"I don't think I've ever seen you with your hair up." Bilbo said suddenly. Senga froze. Her hand had gone to her neck and chin before she even realised it, backing away from the confused hobbit. She hadn't even thought about it when she'd put it up for shooting, quickly tying up the particularly wild waves so they stopped tickling her hand. Realising he'd made a blunder, Bilbo's hands shot up placating.

"Oh, Senga, I'm sorry, I didn't mean –"

"No." She said abruptly, cutting him short, hand still covering her neck. "No, it's okay."

* * *

_**A.N: There's a heavily sarcastic note to this chapter that I'm rather proud of. Not much multi-perspective (except for one-liners) since this was heavily Senga-centric. Also getting a lot of the plot holes out of the way and lavishing you with descriptions. CONSPIRACY! Kind of...ish...but it's a bit of a main part to my character progression climax thing. And to Senga's being there in the first place. Which pisses her off. See? Irony!**_

_**Anyway, the title is, as usual, heavily metaphoric: not only does it tie in to the very obvious imagery of glass at the end of the chapter and to the damage she's done to the sociopolitics of the Company, but to the idea that her own closed-off persona is cracking a bit and becoming more transparent as she starts (painstakingly) to come into her own. Thorin's being a dick...but he has his reasons (to be elaborated). And it feels right for this point, especially with Elrohir in the picture...**_

_**Believe it or not, I cut SO much out of the first bit. And tacked bits on. I re-wrote it twice. Then I cut off the end and started the rest of the chapter again. Kinda satisfied with the non-domestics way in which I've got stuff done (was originally going to have a lot more talking and not getting anywhere). Also, panel beating the characters into the right positions and emotional states and patterns was a fucking pain in the arse after the last chapter (considering this was where I was going with it all). Bloody nightmare. Oh well, got there in the end...I hope...**_

_**Always want people to tell me what they think. And fuel my ego, as I once heard it put.**_Updating at quarter-to-three in the morning because I love you guys!


	14. FCTWWAHiM

_**Chapter Thirteen**_

**Fairly Certain This Wasn't What Artemis Had in Mind**

Senga felt as though she was perched on a ledge, held high from the fall. Apparently it was necessary for the Company to remain in Imladris for a whole fortnight – which was decided after dinner the third night, though the precise reason was a bit sketchy to her. They were waiting for the moon from what she gathered (it had something to do with reading the map). Unfortunately Thorin's mood towards her had gone from bad to worse in only a few hours and her desire to apologise had all but vanished.

On the bright side, Kili was fawning over the new bow (clearly even dwarves deferred to elves when it came to bow-making) and it _was_ a beautiful thing. The prospect of a sword _as well_ left her practically giddy. Her leg, for its part, was healing ludicrously fast, and by the fourth day the peace was setting in.

Like a family holiday.

"Balin and Dwalin are yelling again."

"Wha's tha' you've go', Kili?"

"Um…Mr Dwalin's ale horn?"

_Oh yeah. Family holiday._

On the fifth day, Senga realised she'd never had anyone like Fili and Kili. They talked to her, kept her company, and when she was with them it was easy to forget the spines she'd so carefully built about herself. They laughed, played games; practiced bowcraft (both refused to let her fence until she was fully healed).

_And yet…_

She found herself alone on that fifth night. The brothers were away causing mischief someplace, leaving her in silence. For the first time in days. Elrohir would probably have kept her company, but he was (tactfully) keeping his distance. Her leg twinged annoyingly. In the end, she ran a bath that left her smelling as if she'd turned into a lily covered in Five Spice and tumbled in to bed for an early night. For want of something better to do.

* * *

_Anger. _

_Bitterness. _

_An empty room._

_An empty house. _

_But it was different this time. Images and sounds tried to superimpose themselves on the scene, but it was as if they were being caught in a net. Funnily enough there was a dream-catcher on the wall, all blue and pink and yellow with feathers and wind chimes. It was enough to calm her boiling spite, if only a little._

_That…wasn't supposed to be there. _

"_I told you to do what your heart tells you to do."_

"_Wha' if I don' kno'?"_

_Her Great Uncle chuckled._

"_Then why not act without thinking." The serene tones of the Lady floated on a sudden breeze._

"'_cos we all kno' how well _tha' _turned ou'!"_

_The walls crumbled away, leaving an open space as cool and clear as if at the top of a mountain._

"_You must learn to act beyond these walls you see."_

"_Screw you."_

"_Only when you do will you see the path laid out before you."_

"_I don' kno' wha' my hear' wants, I keep tellin' you!"_

_The sky stretched suddenly above her head, a wind roaring in her ears…_

* * *

She woke wanting to scream. Actually scream.

She didn't know what was worse – not knowing what she was supposed to do, or having someone cause her to doubt who she was supposed to _be_.

How she was supposed to _feel_. What she was supposed to _understand_.

What everyone – apparently – _expected_ of her.

How _dare _they!

Fuck them!

The hell they were allowed to _fiddle _with her life like she was some doll-damsel out of a comic book – she was a Scot for god's sakes!

With a kick, she shoved her legs out from under the sheets, rolling, _fuming_, out of bed. Her thigh twinged. _FUCK IT!_ She was going in search of a _fucking _drink…and something to make dents in because there was really no way she was getting back to sleep after this. Her leg continued to be a bastard all the way out the door, but _sod it! Yes_, it was the middle of the night and, _yes_, it would be simpler to just _let happen_, but why the hell should she?

Oh, and that was just the very worst bit, wasn't it? That she still didn't actually know how to break out on her own will. Not knowing what she wanted was part of it; feeling _disgustingly _weak and dependant was another. _Bugger it!_

Gandalf. Gandalf would have wine! Two birds with one stone! Because she was fucking done _blundering about_, pretending to know what she was doing. _Fuck everything!_

"Bollocks!" She sucked her teeth as her leg spiked on the stair. "Buggerin' hell on the arse o' –"

"_Do you require assistance?_"

She stopped.

There were no exact words for 'piss off' in Sindarin, which was a pity. _Like she was in the mood for _this _again!_ She braced a hand against the wall, turned, and glared hard enough to induce combustion.

"No' –" Elrohir stared back in surprise. "– unless you can fin' me the berk in the fuckin' pointy ha'."

"You are upset."

"Upse'? Hmm. Maybe. Actually, I thin' jus' fuckin' annoyed would cover it. Ostensibly _hacked-off_."

"You feel put upon." It wasn't a question. And the almond eyes were surprisingly soft. But quite apart from easing her down, the statement called in a fresh wave of anger.

"_Yeah, you kno' wha'?_ Believe it or no', the las' thing I need is some stuck up bastard tellin' me wha' I do an don' feel! Or…or tha' I am or aren' ready!" She pushed off the wall breathing hard, nose flaring as she snarled. "So unless you _actually wan' to help_, you can jus' go an' –"

"I do as it so happens." He said quickly. Senga stared. There was something _off_ about the way he approached. Almost a challenge and scrutiny at once. And ever curious, almost as if he –

It took her longer than it should've done to realise.

"Oh. You're…Elladan. Aren' you?"

The elf gave a short, flourishing bow.

"Nice to meet you." Senga responded tonelessly.

"As it is to meet you." He came out of the bow looking oddly smug. "I have heard a great number of things about the enigmatic young Senga, but have yet to appraise them myself. More's the pity, in that respect."

In any other context he might have looked lascivious, but there was nothing provocative in the way he stood, politely looking her up and down. Mostly down. _Tall git._ Senga raised an eyebrow as she wondered what to make of him.

"_Did you want something in particular?_"

"Myself?" He continued in perfect English. "No. In fact, I _have _been told that it would be inadvisable to participate in these affairs, but I can, at least, empathise with your frustration. My grandmother can be…_insistently_ unforthcoming."

"So you're the pity-party then?" Senga said sarcastically.

"Not quite."

Senga narrowed her eyes as he descended past, taking a lamp from its sconce. He held it aloft like a torch before opening a side door concealed in the wall and, with a sly look, gesturing for her to follow. Senga's brow deepened to a frown, apprehensive even as her instincts remained quiet. She allowed him, after a moment, indulging Elladan as he led them out and across a walkway. Beyond the lamplight it was black as pitch: the moon, usually a wonder of the elven kingdoms, was hidden behind a cloud bank and there were only a few lanterns left lit. But, this apparently didn't deter the elf lord. They descended the tiers to the sparring yard without either saying a word.

After fixing the lamp to a convenient bracket, Elladan turned at last to face her.

"Since you were restoring so well," he gestured vaguely to her half-healed and now fully closed wound. "I thought perhaps you would like to explore more deeply into the art of fencing. In as much as my experience can offer."

"_No'?_"

"Why not? I have always found exertion to be an excellent antidote to a troubled mind."

He said it so reasonably that Senga was left gawping for a full few seconds. Then she snapped her mouth shut.

"Fine."

The elf grinned.

"I took the liberty of fetching my old practice blades," he smirked. "I see you have with you your knife."

Senga glanced reflexively at her hip. Since her own trousers had mysteriously reappeared yesterday, she hadn't tempered the habit of arming her belt. She looked squarely back at Elladan.

"That is good." He commented suddenly. "You have no discomfort carrying a weapon. If you cannot trust your blade, you cannot trust your arm. And vice versa."

From his robes he drew thus a matched pair of longblades (adolescent length) sheathed elegantly in unadorned black leather.

"This is Aesuidhiel," he indicated the first, a feather etched onto the pommel. "My Little Bird. And this is Draug."

"Wolf." Senga asserted as she looked them over. They were highly frequented, though of course well cared for. The leather was old and the grip just a little worn. The metal shone like moonlight.

"I'll assume you know the basic motions and ask for you to demonstrate your skill."

"You wan' me to use these?"

"Indulge me."

He held out the swords. As soon as she'd (hesitantly) taken their weight, he swept off his outer robes to reveal the neat tunic beneath, own blade already at his belt. He waited patiently as she selected Draug, drawing it, and then sunk into a stance. She was reminded forcibly of a cat lowering to pounce, wiggling its bottom before launching into motion. _He just needed a tail…_

"_Now,_" his voice had fallen with his posture and Senga tried – _refused –_ to think of it as a purr. Her fingers tightened automatically, feet sliding further apart, eyes fixed on his.

"_Defend yourself._"

He moved deliberately; obviously. Yet it still took a startled burst of speed to meet him in time. The clang echoed around the yard.

"You are out of practice."

"O'?"

Senga disengaged with a smooth flick, then dived under his guard. The sword hissed as it accelerated, slicing the air, but this itself nearly threw her off balance. It was much lighter and much, much faster than she was expecting, forcing her to follow it forward. Elladan met the move with as close to casual effortlessness as it is _possible _for an elf to achieve, deflecting her to the side with a flawless riposte.

She didn't stumble. She was solid on her feet, so, _no_, she _didn't _stumble. What the elf _had _done, however was expose her flank. Purely by instinct – and without sparing a thought to the sudden pain of springing from a crouch – she grasped the hilt of her knife and spun.

The clang was louder this time.

It had been an awkward move to draw with her left hand from her left side, but the crossing block did its job, mildly jarring though it was. She smirked triumphantly.

"Curious."

Elladan disengaged only to change direction and come around from the right.

"You are familiar with this style?"

"I' comes to me," Senga caught a languid move deftly with the short sword. "Bu' I never learn' i' properly."

Elladan dodged out of Draug's path and tilted his head to the side.

"Are you becoming fatigued?"

"Fuck off! I'm jus' getting' started!"

"Well then…"

* * *

"Bloody tree-shaggers. Up at the crack o' dawn."

Gloin snorted humourlessly.

"They were down there a wee while before tha', cousin."

Dwalin froze in the act of ambling into their make-shift common room, bleary scowl deepening.

"Aye," Oin (usually deaf as a post) shook his head unhappily. "Kept up tha' racke' in the wee small ones."

Dwalin's eyes flickered to Thorin in the corner, as the sleep-roughened cogs turned. He took in the expression on the face of his king – which couldn't have been tighter if it'd been sutured on – and he _knew. _He knew who it was banging away outside as the daybreak blueness lifted. He also didn't have to do a headcount to know who she was _with_.

"Well isn' tha' –"

"If you've got nothing nice to say there, Dwalin, I would suggest your not saying it out loud at all." Bofur cut in crisply.

"Aye," The older dwarf gave a look back to cut stone. "You kno' already wha' my opinion is. If she's so happy to jump into bed wi' _them_, why no' let her? She's no one o' ours."

"Now, Mr Dwalin, that's 'arsh!"

"Still defendin' her, laddie?"

"Yes!"

"Well i's abou' time you starte' thinkin' wi' your _head_, an no' your –"

"Quiet!" Thorin barked icily. "Both of you!"

Silence fell. It was thick. Poor little Ori shuffled uncomfortably and Kili tried to match his glare. It felt like they were standing over a pocket of gas ready to go. Of course, it _would _be Oin who broke it –

"Eh, you migh' wan' to work harder on her attentions, laddie, if the pointy-ears' pricked her fancy!" The old mad bastard chuckled dryly. Kili went red.

"Oi! I've _told_ you! There's _nowt _going –"

"_Shazara!_"

The silence this time was baptised with a room-wide wince. Kili stoically kept the glare, but ended up more petulant than not before seeking Fili. Balin tried to meet his eyes. Dwalin gave Thorin a long, significant look, before striding from the room, glower never leaving the wall.

* * *

"_What on Ardra was he thinking?_"

"_He was curious,_" Elrohir shrugged hopelessly. "_But I believe it was when you specifically ordered him _not _to interfere that he decided to act._"

Elrond groaned softly. A dignified groan, to be sure. Gandalf on the other hand threw daggers at the ceiling before sweeping roughly out of the room, muttering to himself as he stomped from the library. As if things could get _more _ridiculous!

* * *

_Thump._

Thorin sagged back onto the wall, heart rabbiting. The dwarf king was _certain_ his face was currently the colour of a peculiar kind of red yam they used to sell in Dale when he was a boy.

_Oh. Bloody. Hell._

* * *

_**14 minutes and 15 seconds earlier…**_

"Stop! Stop, we have done enough!" Elladan laughed breathlessly. Senga paused mid-swing, swaying as gravity overtook the momentum.

"Gettin' tired?"

"Ah, but 'tis not the owl, nor nightingale, but the cock that crows – 'tis morning already!"

"Yeah?"

The implied _'so what?' _was plain to hear, but even Senga found it hard to deny the way her limbs were shaking. She pulled her arms down as a wave of aching hit her.

"I shall find us some seedcake," Elladan said smartly, sheathing his sword. "If you are amenable to the idea." He casually slung his robes over one arm (looking ludicrously unruffled as if he _hadn't _just spent three hours sparring vigorously) and watched her expectantly. Despite the anger that'd started their match – or, rather, lesson – Senga laughed, chuckling heartily as she saw to Draug, Aesuidhiel and her short sword.

"Na, I'd probably jus' drop dead away on the table. 'ave some sen' to my room an' I'll have 'em when I ge' up."

"As you will."

It took Senga a few seconds to register the oddness of 'ordering to her room', but she couldn't be sodded thinking about it now. Waving vaguely to the lanky lordling, she turned and half limped, half meandered back up the staircase.

_She felt good._

Not drunk good, or fucked-up good, but that fuzzy, post-adrenaline high. Even the strain on her leg, worse as the numbing effects of the hormone wore off, couldn't dampen it as she lurched up the walkways. She stumbled into her rooms, fumbling with the door. The short sword dropped to the bed with a bounce. _Ahhh. _She stood at the bed's foot for a minute or so considering whether or not to simply follow it down. _But _it wasn't urgent – still a sort of fog at the back of her mind – and she did (on a more urgent level) feel mildly grimy.

_Fuck it._

It wasn't as if she was on a timetable or needed to rush and be ready for anyone. Without further thinking about it, she tugged sluggishly at her shirt and pants, stripping off completely as she tripped and shuffled in the direction of the bathroom. Already there was a bath run, perfectly balanced for a temperature after exercise (_Elladan, you cheeky prick_) and there was a pleasant gingery-and-passion fruit smell wafting through the air. Easily emulating the knowledge that she had all the time in the world (_and screw everyone else_) she yawned and took time to pick at her face.

Then she turned and flopped into the waiting water in one, smooth movement. The pool-bath welcomed her body like a cloud, guiding her to the deep bit in the middle. It felt…freeing. She floated…then rolled and dived to the bottom. _Fuck it felt good!_

The eerie, pressing silence of that oh so mysterious realm descended on her ears, shutting out everything else.

* * *

_She needed a talking-to._

_Mahal knew this had gone far enough and, although he didn't share Dwalin's opinion that she should be left behind when they departed (coloured by some hostility he had yet to understand) he _certainly _agreed she needed sorting out._

_Like a bloody errant child! She was incapable of rational action, and now she was indulging in trysts with an _elf?

_Despite what the others thought, it was _not _jealousy he felt boiling up through the depths of his blood. No – no because he had every other reason to feel angry! She was no dwarf and he had assured himself _and her _of her position as an outsider (since she was forced on them, after all) and yet he _had _begun to think of her as 'theirs', despite everything. There seemed no sense in denying it. Not that she _belonged_ to them, but she damn well _associated _with them. She was part of the contract. She had fought with them._

_He felt betrayed._

_By a foolish, abrasive, stubborn, irrational, slip of a girl whom he would _not _pander to _any_ more. Not even for Balin's sake._

_Thorin glared at nothing in particular as he reached her door, thinking of how much of a pain in the arse she'd been. And since when did dwarves knock? So, confidently and unapologetically, he marched into her room._

_Her very _well furnished _room._

_No wonder she'd been acting spoilt if the tree-shaggers were coddling her so – blimey! With a mote of disgust, he looked about quickly and acknowledged the lack of Senga. Oh, great. She'd probably gone to _tea _with the _elf _because he batted his long, elvish lashes at her. Effeminate bastard. All the more reason to put a stop to this –_

– _and get her _out of his head_. He'd allowed her to remain for far too long and, despite the feeling of somehow being bound up in her fate, this was real life and he had no intention of abandoning it for a petulant, human girl. Even one as pretty as her. He was a king of the dwarves and he'd do the right thing._

_He noticed at last a half-camouflaged door standing ajar. Something within splashed. Without thinking (and, to be fair, he _hadn't _had a lot of sleep) he strode through the dainty door with opening rebuke on his lips._

_Tiles._

_Purple – why in the name of Durin was there so much _purple?

_Wash basin._

_Time stopped._

_His thoughts scurried into one another and died. What muscle control he had dissolved into white noise, leaving him rooted to the spot. Which was how Thorin Oakenshield first saw Senga in all her naked glory. Yes she was underwater, but his maverick eyes picked out with ease the round of her bottom as it completed the sculpture of her legs. How had he failed to notice it before? How curvy she was – skinny, undoubtedly, but – _

_She rolled, undulating luxuriously._

Oh._ Oh, Mahal help him, this picture of her would remain with him until the end of his days._

_The swell of her breasts._

_The slight parting of her knees._

_Her eyes shut tight against the water – _and oh Mahal he was still standing there shitshitshitshit!_ In a split second, he snapped brutally back to his senses and did the most intelligent thing of that morning._

_He legged it._

* * *

_Two flights of stairs and an out of the way corridor later, Thorin leant panting against an alcove. Red yam. Very red. Oh, BUGGER! So much for getting her out of his head – the images just kept coming, pressing behind his eyes._

_The pale, endless skin._

_The soft flare of her hips._

_The intimate cleft between her legs._

_What had he done to be tested so? It seemed the scene became more detailed the longer he wrestled with it – the twin peaks of darker skin speckling the zenith of her chest; the modest fuzz covering her most private parts, reminding him (along with her height) that this was _Senga – _their _Senga –_ and not a water nymph out of the human myths. Not that he could imagine a nymph being more perfect –_

Nonononono! _No, _holy bollocks, _no! Bloody and (Balin would've scolded him for that one) hell!_

_But all the swearing and stubbornness in the world wasn't going to help his rather _prominent _problem._

_Not even for a dwarf._

_Oh, he cursed the gods in spectacular fashion as he pressed a palm roughly to the front of his trousers, _knowing_ that he'd have to look her in the face after this and _willing _it to go down. The exiled King Under the Mountain took a few moments to work himself with dispassionate detachment. Mechanical movements. Then he could go back to giving her the overdue lecture on conduct._

_Suddenly from deep in his throat there came a long, low hiss._

* * *

"Can I come in, lass?"

"I was abou' to drop into bed, bu' yeah you migh' as well."

The dwarf siddled into the room, taking in his surroundings, and sat tentatively on the bed.

"Did this up all nice for you, didn't they?"

"Was already like this." Senga muttered as she sank down next to him. She was wrapped in a violet silk dressing gown that was two or three sizes too long, hair still dark with moisture, and Bofur couldn't help but stare at her bright, slightly flushed face. What he could see of her face, anyway. The damp locks were obscuring the scar she was endlessly trying to conceal. He tried not to think too much on what might have been the cause of it; what her life might have been like. She looked so _young _here. Perhaps she had a right to stay, away from the horrors of the world, but that was besides the point.

"Did Thorin speak to you, lass?"

"No' unless he was here while I was in the bath."

* * *

"_Ngggh! Hmmn…oh swe…sweet Mahal…"_

* * *

"Oh. Well, he was going to."

"Abou' wha'?" She asked dully.

"About how you've been acting lately lass." Bofur tried to think of the best way to put it. "And it's not that we don't understand you were upset about what happened, but –"

"Fuck wha' happened!"

* * *

"_Ahhh – _Ghhhhuh – _fu –"_

* * *

"You don' trus' me!"

"We never said that, lass!"

"Oh, aye, an' you _haven' _been tip-toin' roun' me like I'm a bomb abou' to go off either!" She stood suddenly as Bofur's heart sank, turning agitatedly. "Okay, so tha' bi' I can understan' an' I am sorry abou' bein' a bomb, bu' – aaarg!"

She threw up her arms (sleeves sliding down off her hands) and Bofur groaned internally at what his next words would be. But, really, he had to ask.

"What's a 'bomb'?"

* * *

"_Oh – Ooooooh…fuck…oh gods forgive me..."_

* * *

"Somethin' tha' explodes." Senga mumbled, deflating somewhat.

"Ah."

_Well that explained things better. _Still, Senga paced, shaking her head tautly.

"Jus' because –" she turned sharply back. "You show up here after I spen' time wi' Elladan…an' it's no' like I don' kno' wha's still bein' said abou' me an' Kili! You all ac' like I'm some sor' o' Vestal Virgin –"

Bofur threw up his hands in protest, but she ploughed on.

"– or like I'm a _snake_ an' it's my job to _embarrass _youor _rob _from you! An' as for the elves, I DON' CARE WHA' ANYONE THINKS O' ME!"

"You care what I think."

"An' is it really such a big deal to you tha' I've finally foun' someone willing to _offer help?_"

Bofur paused.

"No, but there's a difference between proper self-respect and pride. I thought Balin told you as much?"

Senga growled, face distressed, before spinning and flopping back next to him.

"Tha' depen's on your definition o' self-respect. I'm no' a blushin' little innocen' girl!" She bit, glaring at nothing. "I use' to smoke po' behin' the bike sheds and wake up in pools o' my own vomi'. You thin' i' really matters to me to have a _reputation?_" The toymaker didn't need to watch the flash of pain as it appeared over her suddenly worn face. She seemed to lose herself in the dark memories for a time, and he had to resist the urge to reach out to her.

He watched her expression harden.

"When di' I stop bein' one o' the guys?"

"Might have been when you wore the dress!" Bofur joked, trying for a reassuring smile. To his disappointment, the aforementioned expression barely changed at all. Save, perhaps, for the slight twitch of a grimace.

"Crap."

Oh and there was the oath never to wear a dress again – which would've been a pity, it had to be said. Certainly she looked unhappy and the dwarf shuddered to think of why it would be so exquisitely painful to imagine herself innocent. But that didn't mean she couldn't have some measure of dignity as a young lady, surely? Besides, the conflict she wrought was driving each of them mad and there _had _to be a reckoning.

An offer of humility.

* * *

_Thorin felt the patina of sweat cool as he pressed his forid to the statue he'd…hid behind. It took longer to extract his hand. It was still shaking slightly. Lord knew it had been too long. What in the name of Durin had this girl done to him?_

_Maybe Dwalin was right. It'd be for the best._

* * *

"He keeps sayin' _wha'?_"

"He's the only one says it seriously! The rest of us –"

"He's been tryin' to kick me ou' since we lef' the Shire!"

"And Aulё knows he's been unfair to you, we all know, but –"

"Fuck him!"

"I don't think that would help, lass. He's never shown any interest in me."

"Aaarg!"

"You need to see his point of view, lass. _Make a compromise._"

There was a pause, during which Bofur felt hopeful.

"'_is poin'o' view?_"

"Aye, lass!" He said encouragingly.

"Righ'."

Another pause.

"Lass?"

"Righ'!"

* * *

Senga, for all her traits, minor and major, was not known, by anyone, for deciding to be reasonable. Occasionally she would listen to advice or accept help (however begrudgingly at the time). And when she was in a good mood, she even went so far as to rely on others. To trust others. But that was digressing. Perhaps she was getting better, but in the main she still couldn't have described herself as the sort of person who _sat down and reached a compromise._

Maybe she never would.

No, fuck that, she went down kicking and screaming for what she thought. Hence why – despite Bofur's panicked protests – she found herself pulling her clothes back on, re-strapping her sword and hunting through the nightstand drawers. She would've stormed downstairs in the dressing gown, but in between the sudden burst of clarity and starting to move, she'd had a better idea.

"Lass, I'm telling you, _don't do this_, please!"

"What's going on?"

"So she _finally_ shows up."

"YOU."

Without dallying about, she stopped squarely before Dwalin and threw one of the leather riding gloves (the ones she'd just spent ten minutes hunting down) at his feet. A deathly silence fell over the Company. Dwalin stared intently into her face as if trying to spot the trick.

"Are you challengin' me, lassie?" He asked quietly, the deadliest of calm cradling his voice.

"AYE."

"An' wha' are the accusations levelled a' me?"

"THA' YOUR TREATMEN' O' ME HAS BEEN WITHOU' _HONOUR!_"

_That _unfroze the dwarves. Fili, Kili, Ori, Dori, Bombur and Bofur looked for each man utterly horror-struck, the brothers as if they'd spotted an entire orc pack on the horizon. Oin, Gloin and Bifur, though, looked almost as angry as Dwalin who'd flushed an alarming shade of beetroot at the insult.

Even Bilbo, hovering near the door, could sense the fuse she'd just combusted.

"Is tha' wha' you think?" Dwalin snarled, face contorting. "An' wha' o' you? You who ac' as though you have a righ' to our history! Our gold! _You _who have _no honour_, nor decency, _DARE _to challenge mine?"

"YES!" Senga clenched her fists at her sides to stop from simply decking him there. "AN' WE'LL SEE WHO'S RIGH'!"

Dwalin glared thunderously, then broke suddenly into wolfish grin. He nodded sharply and barked out a phrase in Khuzdul that (apparently) left no one in any doubt.

"Shoul' you lose…you'll no' follo' us any longer." His grey eyes bored into hers. "You'll remain here when we leave, an' you'll no' burden us any more. Is tha' understood?"

Senga squared her shoulders. There would be no backing down from this. She returned the nod.

"AYE."

Thorin's storm eyes snapped between them as if he couldn't quite believe how thoroughly infuriated he was at the pair of them. The door was thrown open without a word spoken to either, and although Senga tried to meet his eye, he didn't so much as glance backwards as he lead the horribly silent procession out to that same, bloody sparring yard. She felt like she was about to do a straight, head forward dive off a cliff.

_She wasn't a dwarf. These weren't her traditions._

She held her head high, riding the anger.

_Because without that she would've been terrified. There was no way this could end well._

And yet, in the back of her mind, something held fast. This was _meant_, not simply because of her hitching with the Company. It ran deeper than that.

"Senga!" The brothers were spontaneously at her sides, Kili leaning urgently to her ear. "You don't 'ave to do this!"

And in that moment all was as calm and clear as winter sunshine.

"Yeah I do." She took three strides to the centre of the yard. Eyes that felt sharp as steel sought Dwalin's and there she stared him down.

"Fili?"

"Yes?"

"Min' if I borro' one o' your swords?"

The heir of Durin was pale as a ghost. He nonetheless obeyed, still silently pleading as she took the weapon. Yet it was as if they'd all seen the truth in her stance and backed up out of the way to watch. Thorin (not that she cared) had picked a spot behind them to look as he, grimly balled a fist. The brief look they were each afforded was filled with disgust and resignation.

"Balin – will you also witness?"

The white-haired dwarf looked all but distraught, but seemed at least to have made up his mind. He nodded firmly.

"Aye. Though it pains me more than I will ever say."

Thorn was clenching his teeth so hard it looked like he had lockjaw. He was also…_blushing? Wait, hang_ –

"You starte' this, lassie!" Dwalin shouted, raising an axe.

"_Heghlu'meh qaq jajvam!_"

"Wha' the hell does tha' mean?"

Senga dropped down, growling ferally and feeling _so_ alive.

"Today is a _goo' day_ to die."

She charged.

The world narrowed to the twin axes – _she wondered absently what their names were_ – and her body crunched to take the impact. What the hell she was doing, she hadn't the foggiest, but before she could fully decide, she slammed into him like a brick wall.

Or rather, _he _was the brick wall.

_She _would've bounced off like a rubber if not locking their weapons together. Dwalin grunted, obviously surprised, and in a moment of inspiration, she kicked him in the shins. Hard. Teeth bared proudly.

The dwarf growled.

Suddenly she was being shunted to the side, swords now a liability as she fought to escape the momentum. No sooner had she swerved away when the axes were being brought down again – and again. Elladan fought like a dancer with dual whips; Dwalin was like a king cobra, striking forward and down, grappling until she nearly buckled. Fighting axes with swords was difficult enough at the best of times, _and she'd only learnt the technique one afternoon in the mud and rain, come on!_

Maybe this was what it would be like to meet a cassowary – before it got on to disembowelling her, anyway. Dwalin roared as he drove her back, eyes on her legs lest she try to use them again, countering with a fury she barely managed to block.

"Is tha' all you go', lassie?"

Senga yelped and tried for his side, moving erratically to try and catch him off guard. Instead, he caught her arm, flinging it outwards to expose her chest.

Her breath left in a _whoosh_.

Then the pain started, the back of the axe having hit her ribs with a crunch, and she couldn't help but scream as she scrambled to bring her arms back up. Her right side was on fire. Her lungs had vices clamped about them, and again the axes came battering down. Keeping her relentlessly on the defensive, Dwalin started aiming at her legs, finally hooking her left knee out from under her. Her body collapsed brutally onto the joint, and she _felt _it twist.

"Aye," the bastard wasn't smug, but…_disappointed. _"Jus' as I though'."

She had to move. She _had _to _move_. But try as she might, she couldn't get her chest to inflate properly and her knee wouldn't take her weight. It felt like a stone had lodged in her kneecap.

"Go home. You've no place here."

And he left it at that, walking away as she wrenched in a breath.

_Home? What was home? _The weight of the locket pressed her skin. _Home? _She thought of Fili and Kili, and Bofur, and Balin, and...Thorin. All watching. _Home?_

"Pathetic." Dwalin muttered with same, quiet, disgusted, _disappointment_.

"OI!"

Where that strength came from, she didn't find out until a long time afterwards, but right then it didn't matter. All of a sudden the pain was happening to someone else and the rest was consumed in a column of blinding rage. She was on her feet without memory of having got there, swords raised. Almost before he had a chance to turn back, the blades were flying towards him, her right behind. This time there were no axes as the momentarily shocked dwarf was forced to block, knocking Fili's sword away whilst dodging out of the path of her knife (which promptly glanced off the pillar next to his face).

Then came Senga.

The weapons jerked from his grip as she collided with his midriff, sending them both to the floor. A chorus of yelling started behind her, but she couldn't give a flying fuck. She punched, kicked, scratched and elbowed every part of him she could reach, twisting out of the way of Dwalin's retaliation even as he caught her injured ribs. She couldn't breathe anymore, but it didn't matter. She rolled away just enough (feeling the sting of a blow to her ear) and aimed _right there_, bringing up her knee.

Dwalin howled, clutching his bollocks as she threw her weight on his collar.

"D'YOU YIEL'?"

The old warrior flung forward: first his head, which connected with a flash of pain to her nose, then with the rest of his body, knocking her off. Senga staggered, forced back into the wall as Dwalin surged up. Fortunately this was the perfect position to lean back, bring both her feet up, and bash them into his stomach before he could do anything about it. His agony was plain to see (and hers as her knee jammed) but he didn't let go, pressing a forearm to her throat.

"Do _I _yiel'?" he hissed incredulously.

She spat, throwing her head forward as he'd done. He avoided the strike easily, leaning back, but this was just what she needed to jam a fist to his diaphragm. He wheezed harshly, arm easing as he curled. Her vision was really dissolving now, but in her current position it was hard to miss. She drew her head back.

It was hard to say who was hurt more by this as their skulls cracked – logically, it should've been her since _he _was the dwarf with the thickened bones. Nevertheless, the cry came from both of them and she felt the arm leave, even as her vision spun. She breathed, but couldn't keep her eyes open. They'd stopped working properly anyway. Following the sound of Dwalin's pained groans, she lurched…_forward_ would've been too generous. In a half circle would probably have been a better description. But she actually managed to move a few feet, which was something.

"Swee' bloody _Mahal!_"

"YOU – _gah, fu'._" Apparently there was the wall. "YOU!"

She swung a punch, but it wouldn't have been all that powerful had it hit. From how Kili described it, she'd been surprisingly close, though, and she opened her eyes a crack to see Dwalin actually backing up.

"GE' BACK HERE!"

"You inten' to _bleed _on me, lassie?"

"GE' FUCKED!"

Senga managed to take a step and a half towards where he was slouched against the pillar.

"YOU GIVIN' UP?"

"Oh, don' try i', Senga!"

It registered vaguely that this was one of the few times he'd used her name.

"SO YOU ARE GIVIN' IN!"

He swore tremendously before managing to get to his feet. Vision still swimming, she made it to stand before him once more.

"Well?" She spat something off her lip that spotted redly on the stone. Dwalin looked her up and down as if not quite believing his bruised eyes.

"You're still goin', lassie?" He sounded somewhere between concerned and impressed. Senga wondered if she'd hit her head harder than she'd thought, but no, he was bowing his head, scowl unusually soft.

"I yiel'." He said quietly. She felt as though the world had just fallen through the floor. Air rushed in her ears and she stumbled backward into two pairs of waiting arms.

"Come on." Kili's voice murmured breathlessly in her ear. "Up the stairs."

"You do know you're face is _covered_ in blood…"

For the second time in so many days, she found herself sat between the boys with Oin, Elrond, Bofur, Balin and Bilbo hovering over her. Except this time, no one was saying a word as the rest of the dwarves appeared in the doorway, parting to allow Dwalin inside. He gave Fili and Kili a look, and when they moved aside, he sat down beside her on the cot, still with that soft scowl. By unspoken consensus, the Company was utterly silent, watching the pair.

By the looks the elves were giving them, Senga realised they must look a real mess. Someone, however (she suspected a not-to-be-named meddling wizard) had clearly told them not to say a word either, despite their having probably woken half of Imladris.

Dwalin paused for a moment, during which a bird fluttered in the branches of a tree beyond the window, even it silent as it listened in.

"Why?" She found herself asking. The floor shimmered with midmorning light.

"You're no' one of us." He repeated harshly. Thirteen pairs of eyes snapped to him.

"Bu'," he continued, stony tone tempered by a brief wince as he clutched between his legs. "You've go' balls, I'll gi' you tha'. You don' give up."

"No."

He nodded, as if this answered something important.

"Aye. Well, you defende' your pride. Your…honour, such as it is." Senga stared intensely at the floor, heart hammering as she waited for him to continue. "You've proved you're no' jus' words."

"Thank you."

The dwarf gritted his teeth, stoically maintaining nonchalance as he rose, gingerly adjusting his trousers. He paused again, before looking over his shoulder.

"You do wha'ever the hell you wan'."

He looked nearly…_surprised?_ _Satisfied? Impressed, even?_

Good god.

He and Thorin nodded at one another, the dwarf king solemn (though that might have been lack of sleep – again). She found herself almost smiling, briefly distracted by how quickly things with the dwarves could go from throat-ripping to astonishingly peaceful; by how Thorin in particular could stand suddenly apart _and oh Jesus she was still in the Company!_

Suddenly the silence broke a thousand different ways and her vision was obscured by a mass of brown hair.

"Well done! By Aulё, our Senga!"

Though it hurt, she returned the fierce hug, and wondered oddly what she might have said, mere weeks ago, if she'd ever seen this coming.

* * *

_**A.N: So here it is - long chapter for a long wait! And almost entirely written out of a notebook whilst on campus (really should get onto writing my BIOSCI 210 evolution report, but this is more important!) Just one or two things: the title I thought up ages ago and thought it would be quite appropriate for the situation given Artemis herself. Also Dwalin's line comes (obviously) from "What are you going to do, bleed on me?" out of Monty Python's Holy Grail. **_

_**This chapter represents my desire to move forward with this story. The problem so far has been that the characters needed to be in the right stages of interpersonal conflict, mental stability, infatuation and general skill (in Senga's case) and I think I've managed to flesh it out for this purpose.**_

_**Oh, and there are two scenes from fanfics I need to cite for being inspired: The first (and god forgive me I've forgotten both fic and author!) is a scene where the protagonist and Thorin end up beating the crap out of each other - really good fic, just can't remember which one! And the second is Thorin getting aroused in The Ballad of Flora Brandybuck (by 0_wanderlust_0).**_

_**As always, love the reviews, and thank you to everyone who's still following the story! Rest assured, I have not abandoned it, my lovelies, and will continue to write when I can. I REGRET NOTHING!**_


End file.
